


Challenge Seven: Non-Penetration

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 93,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/85072.html">Challenge 7: Non-penetration</a> for summerpornathon 2012</p><p>Voting post can be found <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/85667.html">here</a> .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (with warnings)

1.

Merlin’s eyes rolled back into his head and he groaned, the sound echoing in the empty gymnasium, as Arthur scraped his teeth against his neck and fucked Merlin’s thigh. “Fu-u-uck, Arthur,” Merlin cried and tried everything he could to get better friction to his own aching cock, but somehow Arthur kept his thigh just out of reach. “Not fucking fair,” he panted and felt Arthur’s smirk against his throat.

“Don’t fucking care,” Arthur moaned into his skin, while one of his hands skimmed down Merlin’s side, fingers digging into his hip bone. “You deserve it.”

Merlin wanted to know exactly how that was the case, but Arthur’s tongue swept into his mouth and tangled with his, stopping the protest in his throat. 

It wasn’t safe for them to be like this, out in the open, practically fucking at the top of the bleachers where anyone could come in and catch them. Not that Merlin minded, of course. He’d had his eye on Arthur since freshman year, knowing he was bi-sexual, but sure he had no interest in Merlin. To be honest, they were barely acquaintances, so Merlin was more than a little surprised when Arthur had cornered him after school on his way to the track, stalked him up the bleachers, and pinned him down without warning.

Arthur fucked his tongue into his mouth, swallowing down every one of Merlin’s moans, and only stopped when they were both desperate to breathe.

He moved his hand from Merlin’s hip, pressed it onto the front of his jeans. Merlin’s cock strained against the fabric, begged to be touched, _fucked_. But Arthur only squeezed gently every now and then, teasing.

“Saw you with Gwaine,” Arthur growled, nibbling on Merlin’s hypersensitive earlobe. Merlin didn’t know why, but Arthur sounded jealous. That didn’t make sense. He and Gwaine were just friends, not that Arthur should care. He shuddered and tightened his arms around Arthur’s neck, trying to get moremoremore. “You don’t play by the rules.”

“Wh-what?” Merlin stuttered when Arthur’s tongue snaked into his ear and licked. “R-rules?”

Merlin could feel the precome soaking through his boxers. Fuck. “You’re cross country,” Arthur said, his hips languidly rubbing into Merlin’s thigh, his breath stuttering into Merlin’s ear. “Cross country doesn’t _associate_ with baseball. It’s the rule.”

If Merlin had any sense left in him, he’d have rolled his eyes in exasperation - because _really_? This was about high school sports _politics_? - but that was when Arthur slipped the tips of his fingers down Merlin’s jeans and flicked the slit of his leaking cock. Involuntarily, his body arched into the touch and Arthur pulled back, tutting.

“Oh no,” Arthur said, his thumb outlining Merlin’s cock through his jeans again. “You need to learn the rules, Merlin. You want to cross the line, then you go straight to the top. Team Captain.” Arthur flashed him a cocky grin and okay, Merlin had had enough.

With a growl, Merlin found the strength and momentum to push Arthur - who was easily fifty pounds heavier than him - off of him. Then he used his quick reflexes to clamber on top of him, knees either side of his hips. Arthur looked shocked and turned on all at once and Merlin found that ridiculously fucking hot.

“I’ll show you the rules,” Merlin smirked and then pressed his groin down into Arthur’s. They both let out a moan - Merlin’s choked and Arthur’s loud - before Merlin started thrusting his hips in earnest. Fully clothed, sweat dripping down their brows and mouths open in pleasure, Merlin rode Arthur like a fucking horse, grasping and reaching for the finish line he knew wasn’t far off.

“So fucking hot,” Arthur managed to choke out between thrusts and Merlin was inclined to agree - Arthur’s hair messy, lips swollen and chest heaving - fucking hot. “Always wanted you.”

And that was fucking brilliant news to Merlin.

“Close,” he said, breathless. “Gonna come,” he said and when Arthur slid his hand down the back of Merlin’s jeans, a finger stroking his hole, Merlin gasped and came hard, Arthur’s name tumbling from his lips like a prayer.

Arthur immediately followed after, his hips jerking, arms coming up to pull Merlin down for a sloppy kiss.

When they broke apart, Merlin smirked lazily down at Arthur. “I think it’s time for a rules change, don’t you?”

Arthur smirked back. “Haven’t you guessed? I never play by the rules, Merlin.”

* * *

2\. 

“You’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

“ _Arthur._ ”

“Christ. You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about ripping your clothes off, shoving you into the mattress, and fucking you until you can’t walk.”

“Charming.”

“Admit it, Merlin: the thought of me fucking you senseless turns you on.”

“Only because I haven’t gotten laid in four whole weeks!”

“That’s because you flew to fucking Canada to do some stupid research about lake water. Who the hell goes to Canada to do research on fucking _lake water_?!”

“At least I don’t spend my work days listening to Uther drone about finances. It’s a miracle you haven’t jumped off a cliff yet, I can barely deal with Sunday dinners.”

“Talking of Sunday dinners, they’re unbearable without you.”

“I’m sure Uther is delighted.”

“Of course. Morgana isn’t best pleased in your absence, though.”

“What can I say? I’m just that important.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Merlin.”

“You’re the one who wants to pound my arse into the bed.”

“Please don’t remind me. I’m so horny right now.”

“I’ve wanked off with one hand on my cock and the other up my arse so many times now, I’ve lost count.”

“...”

“You’re wanking to that image, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“I can hear the hitch in your voice, you prat.”

“I can’t help how much of a slut you are. I bet you imagined your fingers were my cock, didn’t you?”

“Except my fingers are nowhere near as big and long. It isn’t quite the same.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you stupid when you come home next week.”

“You’d better. Until then, I’ll just keep finger-fucking myself, imagining you fucking me and telling me how much you love my arse.”

“ _Jesus._ You know I do, baby.”

“Are you still touching yourself?”

“I’m not going to deign to answer such a pointless question.”

“Good.”

“Have you taken your cock out yet, Merlin? Started touching yourself, imagining it’s me?”

“Way ahead of you, Arthur.”

“Fuck, I want to touch you so badly.”

“Another week, and then you get to touch all you want. Until then, use your imagination. I’ll help.”

“I never thought we’d resort to phone sex.”

“I never thought we’d be apart for more than a week. Celibacy doesn’t suit me.”

“God, you’re such a slut.”

“And you love it.”

“Fuck _yes_.”

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“You sucking my cock so hard you’re almost gagging on it.”

“Jesus, Arthur.”

“You’re making it so wet, ready for me to shove you down and fuck you.”

“And then I’m fingering myself, opening my arse up—”

“My fingers too; we’re both fucking you slowly, and your arse is so tight, so hot and wet and ready for my cock.”

“Arthur, I want you, I want you to fuck me so much.”

“I want you to ride me, so you straddle me and put my cock in your arse.”

“I’m sinking down on it, fast, and you’re telling me how good I am.”

“You’re fucking amazing, baby.”

“And then I ride you, bouncing my arse on your cock, and everything is so _wet_.”

“You’re arching your back and crying my name because I’m hitting your prostate every time, and it feels amazing. Put your fingers in your arse, Merlin, go on – imagine that it’s my cock, fucking you hard.”

“Arthur, you feel so fucking good. I want more. I want you to fuck me harder.”

“I shove you down and then I’m fucking you, I’m riding your arse, I’m giving you the best fuck of your life. Every thrust is harder and deeper and faster.”

“Yes, yes, Arthur, don’t stop, please—”

“You’re touching yourself, looking into my face, screaming at me to fuck you, how huge my cock is in your arse, how you want me to fill you up, you _whore_.”

“I’m a dirty little slut for you, Arthur, you can take whatever you want, just fuck me!”

“I spread your legs more, and the headboard’s banging, and you’re telling me you’re close.”

“So close, I want to come, you’re going to make me come, _Arthur_ —”

“So I fuck into you so hard, you scream.”

“I’m coming, god, I’m coming—”

“Merlin, you’re so hot, fucking hell—”

“Come on Arthur, come with me, come in my arse so you can lick yourself out afterwards, and then kiss me so I can taste it, I want to feel you inside of me for days—”

“Merlin, _Merlin_ , fuck yes, _yes_ , oh _baby_.”

* * *

3\. 

**Warnings:** Non-con/dub-con situation portrayed in porn

“...My character’s superpower is his sperm.” Merlin stares down at the script he’s been given in disbelief, as if he’s waiting for the words to transform into something that’s not utterly ridiculous. “His. _Sperm_.”

The director huffs, as if Merlin has just insulted the next cinematic masterpiece, and not some porn with high production values. It's in the middle of a metaphor comparing virility to Samson and his hair--which doesn't even make _sense_ \--that Merlin agrees to take the part. He needs the money after all.

*

"Halt, evil scum! I, Sperman--"

"Cut!"

Merlin scowls. Once again, it's not the director that's stopped filming, but Merlin's prat of a co-star. Arthur Penn is fit as hell, but any attraction Merlin felt towards him when they met left the instant he opened his mouth. "What's the matter _now_?"

"Have you even read the script?" Arthur smirks, crossing his arms. "You can read, can't you?"

Merlin usually can tolerate anyone, but Arthur's condescending attitude is grating on his nerves. "Of course, you pompous--"

The director chooses that moment to send everyone on break, and Merlin seethes as he plops down in his chair. "Who does that guy think he is?"

"...You mean, you've never heard of Arthur before?" Gwen asks, pausing in the midst of retouching his make-up. She seems too sweet and innocent to be involved with the adult entertainment business, but she's been working behind the scenes for years. "Some call him 'the Prince of Porn'."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Great. I knew he was an ass, just not a royal one."

"He's not that bad, just...dedicated." Gwen bites down on her bottom lip, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "...You should really watch some of his work to understand."

*

Later that night, Merlin decides to look up some of the videos Arthur has previously starred in. Not that he expects his opinion to change, he's just curious if Arthur is really as good as people claim.

"Royal Ransom" has the plot one would expect: As a prince, Arthur wants to escape the dungeon he’s imprisoned in, but he needs to gain favor from the dungeon master. And of course, that means only one thing.

Merlin has watched so much porn that the actions just seem technical to him now; the typical insert Tab A into Slot B. But as he watches Arthur get down on his knees, Merlin's cock twitches to attention. The camera catches the defiance in Arthur's eyes as his jailer rubs his cock over those pink, plump lips before Arthur opens his mouth.

"...Holy shit," Merlin whispers as the dungeon master shoves the entire thing in, and Arthur just _takes_ it.

Merlin's own cock grows painfully hard fast, and he gives it a quick stroke as his eyes remain fixed on the laptop screen. This must be what Gwen was talking about: Arthur is acting like he's disgruntled royalty, forced to kneel for his freedom. But the way he moans around the cock forced down his throat, hollowing out his cheeks and swirling his tongue, that's _real_.

Arthur is suddenly flipped so he's on his hands and knees, and the shot zooms in as two fingers are pumped into his ass. He must have pre-lubed, because he just thrusts back as he tugs at his own erection.

The idea of replacing those fingers with his own tongue, opening Arthur up until he screams for more, is what pushes Merlin over the edge.

"Fuck!" he shouts as he comes all over his stomach, thinking he might have been hasty in judging Arthur after all.

*

They're already supposed to be on set, filming the next scene. But one look at Arthur bending over, the spandex suit molding to the curves of his ass, and Merlin has to excuse himself to the restrooms before he comes in his costume.

He never expects Arthur to follow, or lock the door behind them.

"What are you--" Merlin is cut off as Arthur crushes his mouth against his, moaning when Arthur pins him against the tile wall.

"Figured you could use some extra rehearsal," Arthur says, palming at Merlin’s straining erection through the fabric. “Though, you better not be faster than a speeding bullet.”

“...T-that’s _Superman_ , you ass!” Merlin stammers as he shamelessly ruts against Arthur’s hand, his cock already leaking with pre-come.

Arthur just chuckles as he nips at Merlin’s earlobe. “Prove it.”

* * *

4\. 

Warning: infidelity

The bus was just pulling from the stop as he walked up to it, spraying puddles onto the sidewalk as it stopped at a red light just a hundred feet down the road. Arthur leaned against the dirty, scratched plexiglass of the stop, studied the times and walked back out into the rain and hailed a cab home. Raindrops pattering against the windows, he opened the file with his case notes, a few photos he hadn't yet made sense of and tried to tune out the jabber of the cab driver talking about the Olympics and the lanes on the M4.

A journalist had offered him a few grand for a bit of information on this case down the bistro at the corner today as they'd shared a smoke under the narrow marquise. "We're talking a page three story, page five if you can't make much of it." He'd declined. Taken the coffee and the smoke and walked back around to his office and sat at his desk until much too late. They'd have a few more dying at this rate.

His flat was dark. He slid the file on the kitchen table, got himself a beer from the fridge and only then turned on the light. He got a good look at his own reflection, a better look at Gwen in her nightshirt standing in the doorway behind him.

"You're still here," he said. Down on the table the murdered women stared up at him with gruesome knife wounds and dead eyes. "He must be missing you by now."

Gwen flinched and brushed her hair back, but then padded into the kitchen on bare feet and walked up behind him, slid her arms around him and kissed at the back of his neck. The rain still splattered against the window.

"He's out tonight."

"Ah." He drained half the can and set it down next to the folder, then turned to her and kissed her on the lips. 

She was warm against him, her hands sliding the jacket off his shoulders and then under his shirt, going for the buttons. "I thought you'd be back sooner."

"Thought you'd meant to leave this morning," he replied. Her mouth tasted of toothpaste, his probably of beer and the pasty from earlier. "You should show your face round his a bit more often."

"You should work less." She raised an eyebrow at him as if she saw the details of the case hanging on his mind, then slipped her nightshirt off and drew his hand up to her breast until he thumbed her nipple all by himself and pulled her in closer against his thigh with his other hand on her naked arse. "See me more."

He didn't reply, only shoved the folder further back towards the radiator, sat on the table and had her straddle his thighs, her damp heat riding against his crotch. The beer can teetered dangerously as he knocked into it with his elbow but didn't fall, and Gwen pressed against him in a slow slide and drag, pushing against his hard cock, while he brushed at her nipples, watching them harden

"He's _still_ slinking around the office," Arthur said. He pressed his hand to Gwen's arse and pulled her in tighter against him, thrusting up. "Looking for dirt on all of us." He'd snuffled through Arthur's desk already, looking for money Arthur would've never taken but _not quite_ trusting his word.

"Hmm." Gwen leaned in closer, face in the crook of Arthur's neck, mouthing at his stubble and damp, too-long hair, as she thrust herself harder against him, riding her clit against the seam of his jeans. He got in a hand between them, fingers inside her, his palm buffering every thrust as she rose to kneel then rolled her hips against him. "Yes, yes," she moaned against Arthur's cheek, grinding her crotch into his hand, wet, slippery sounds coming from around Arthur's fingers, as she fucked herself closer and higher and clenched around him as she came, hips slamming down against him.

He kissed under her ear, the side of her neck, her breast. "I'm sure he misses you," he said. 

He drew patterns on her back and as she came down against him, still clenching wet around his fingers, it wasn't like he'd make her go. He'd leave her in bed when he took the bus into work, trying to do his job as Lance was looking for dirt in all the wrong places.

* * *

5\. 

Warnings: Use of misogynistic language in a dirty talk context.

 

The thing is –

“That's it. Suck it, bitch.”

The thing is, Freya's gay. She's known she was gay since before she knew what 'gay' was, since she was tiny and marrying her Barbies to each other. She had a dykey phase when she was a teenager, until she realised she could be gay and still wear dresses. She used to follow Tegan and Sarah religiously, until she realised that wasn't necessary either. She likes girls. She does not like men.

“Use your mouth. You've got a lovely mouth.”

Which isn't to say she doesn't _like_ men. Some of her best friends are men. But they're hairy and smell and hard in all the wrong places and she doesn't want them touching her, ever. Freya has no intention of ever sleeping with men.

Which makes it a bit of a problem –

“You really get off on this, don't you?”

– That she likes cocks so much. She used to look at pictures online all the time, first in mortification, then in fascination. Straight porn didn't do anything for her, but then she discovered chicks with dicks and was all set.

A hand brushing the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, urging her on.

Freya has hosted Anne Sommers parties with her flatmates twice now, but she hides her realistic dick dildo under three layers of boxes in her wardrobe, because really, what if somebody found it? They'd think she isn't really gay, but she is, she _is_ , as little sense as it makes. She just –

“ _God_ you're gorgeous when you do this.”

– really loves dicks.

The dildo is matte black, on Morgana's insistence, but still more obviously phallic than anything they've used before, with a thick ridge around the head and veins marked out on the plastic, and the surface is ever-so-slightly soft, like skin. Freya laps at the head, curling her tongue around it, one hand gripping Morgana's thigh.

She's not sure what Morgana's really getting out of doing this. To be honest, she's not completely sure what _she's_ getting out of doing this – she's not turned on, exactly, not like during normal sex, nor is she getting the satisfaction she gets from eating a girl out. It's something different, something that makes her skin burn. 

Morgana pushes on the back of her head, urging her to take it deeper, and the smooth slide of it over her tongue feels fantastic. She can't take it that deep, not really, but she wraps a hand around the base of it anyway, as if it's a real cock, and lets Morgana fuck her mouth, dragging her head back and forth, gripping her hair firmly. Morgana fucks her until her mouth is burning, until her spit is running down the sides of the strap-on, and she groans around it, because she's definitely turned on now, she's getting wet.

“You're such a crazy bitch,” says Morgana fondly, letting go of her, letting her draw back and mouth at the dildo, exploring the ridge under the head and the veins with her tongue. 

Then Morgana gets bored of that, and push her down lower, mouth sliding down the plastic until she reaches the place where it meets Morgana's shaved pussy, and then her mouth is half on cool plastic and half on heated skin and all she can do is breathe against it.

She eats Morgana out with one hand playing with her clit and one still gripping the dildo, eats her out grateful, hot and wet, her mouth burning and a little sore. She knows Morgana's cunt now, knows how to do this quick and hard, knows how to tell when Morgana wants it fast, like she does now. When Morgana comes the dildo jerks up in Freya's hand, almost like a real cock.

“You liked that too much,” says Morgana, still shuddering through the aftershocks. “Crazy bitch.” She pets Freya's hair. 

“You love it,” says Freya. She mouths at the tip of the dildo. It's still wet.

* * *

6\. 

“Pinky up while you suck my dick, we’re trying to keep it classy here.” Gwaine drawled, each word extended and snapped at its breaking point for maximum effect. 

The murderous look in Arthur’s too-blue eyes was worth every ounce of punishment that Gwaine would receive later. Arthur always did look at his best when he was about to run someone through with his sword (Gwaine did mean that in every possible way). He wasn’t really surprised when Arthur pinched the tender skin on the inside of his thigh ripping out a wail from Gwaine’s chest. The pain bloomed across his skin sudden and sharp, Arthur pinched it again in time with a bob of his head. 

For a long dizzying second Gwaine couldn’t breathe, wasn’t even bothered that his lungs seemed to have seized for a moment. Then Arthur was gagging on his dick eyes shut tight and throat constricting. The next pinch was on the meat of his ass right over some of the bruises the paddle left the _last_ time he ran his mouth when Arthur was trying to do something ‘nice’ for him. 

It was about all he could take. “Fuck.” Gwaine bit out, head hitting the wall with a hollow thump as he came down Arthur’s throat with a whine he desperately tried to bite back on. Arthur looked satisfied, sitting on his haunches and staring evenly at Gwaine. He shouldn’t be the one to look in control of this situation, Arthur should be the one humiliated and submissive while on his knees. Normal rules never seemed to apply to Arthur.

“I give you six points out of ten, it was a good effort.” Gwaine probably could have stopped himself if he tried but there was something about the casual way that Arthur used him that always seemed like a challenge. 

“I should whip you.” Arthur said but he was smiling a little, licking a drop of Gwaine’s come off the corner of his mouth as he stood. Gwaine’s mouth went a little dry, throat clicking as he tried to swallow. “But it won’t help will it? You’re always going to be a mouthy bitch.” Arthur’s fingers tangled in the collar and tugged until it was biting into the back of Gwaine’s neck and he was having trouble breathing. Arthur simply watched him until Gwaine’s knees buckled. Then Arthur let him sag against the wall, willing his legs to work as he gasped frantically. 

“It’s part of my charm.” Gwaine grinned shakily. “We can’t all be as eager as Lancelot.” Arthur just smirked at him over his shoulder. 

Arthur was the Golden Prince of Camelot, his father had taken control of the space station when it was a den of thieves and whores and turned it into one of the biggest markets in the Horse Head nebula. Like some sort of prince from a fairy tale Arthur was as terrible as he was beautiful. Blond and shiny and never satisfied until Gwaine had given him everything he was or could ever be. 

Gwaine pushed himself to his feet and followed after Arthur. 

Arthur could have anyone, power and politics bowed before him and Merlin parting the seas of the stars with only a wish. Only Arthur didn’t want just anyone, only those that had proven themselves truly loyal.

Gwaine had always lived in Camelot, son of one of the whores and professional duct rat until he decided he wanted more from life.

“There you are, if you’re done playing?” Merlin smiled at them. “We need to talk about district 7, someone has been pushing slaves through our ports on the side.” 

“We can’t have that.” Arthur frowned thoughtfully, mouth still swollen and so-very-red against his pale face. 

“Gwaine, take Lancelot and Percy and put a stop to this. Show them what happens to people who think they can break the rules on Camelot.” Merlin said this with the same cheerful glee he said everything, death and destruction and dinner plans, it _should_ be disconcerting only it was just Merlin. Gwaine looked from Merlin to Arthur for confirmation. 

“String them up from the cargo bay.” Arthur commanded with a small nod. 

Gwaine gave him a curt bow. “Consider them strawberry jam.” He grinned lazily while Arthur rolled his eyes and Merlin beamed. 

Arthur was the king, and they were his knights. Gwaine would do ( _had done_ ) anything for him.

* * *

7\. 

Arthur knows he’s an arsehole. He doesn’t need Morgana’s glare to tell him that. He shouldn’t have moved away, abandoned his friends without explanation. He shouldn’t have lost touch.

He shouldn’t have broken Merlin’s heart.

He knows. It took him a year to find himself, to figure out that he could be someone beyond Uther Pendragon’s son. That’s a long time. But is it too much to forgive? Arthur isn’t sure.

The pub fills and, one by one, his friends file through the door as Morgana had arranged. They stop, slack-jawed as they spot him. He waves sheepishly at one after another. To Gwen he whispers, “Sorry,” and he sees forgiveness in her eyes for all the unanswered emails. She was the only one who kept trying after the first three months of no replies.

The conversation is stilted as they crowd into a booth; no one brings up the elephant in the room. Elena asks Arthur about New York and he lies and says it was great. Then Gwaine punches him in the arm, accompanying his snarky, “Welcome back, Princess.” Things almost feel normal after that.

Until Merlin walks in and then it’s like the entire pub collectively holds its breath.

Behind Merlin is another bloke, dark hair and soulful brown eyes. When Merlin stops at the sight of Arthur and blanches, the bloke’s arm slips around Merlin’s shoulders. The concerned look on his face tells Arthur enough.

He’s too late, Arthur realises. He took too long. He told Merlin not to wait for him, so he has no one to blame but himself. Yet he’d hoped. In the noise and bright lights of New York, he dreamt of Merlin back in England, getting on with his life in all aspects but one. He was a fool.

Suddenly the booth is too crowded, the pub too hot. He pushes his way free with mumbled apologies and a cold sweat trickling down his neck. He finds a darkened corner by the loo and tries to pull himself together.

“You’re back.” The words are sharp-edged. Accusing.

Arthur’s eyes snap open to see Merlin too close. His eyes bore into Arthur; he’s trembling. It’s a flashback to the night he said goodbye.

“You didn’t tell me you were back.” Merlin’s lips turn down, like not calling when he got in was worse than Arthur up and leaving him. 

“I didn’t know what would be waiting for me,” he admits in a moment of accidental honesty.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, and Arthur’s breath catches because no one has said his name like that in a long time. “I waited.”

Arthur feels something squeeze at his heart and he looks away, back to the table where his friends are pretending not to watch them -- all but Merlin’s dark haired bloke, who is kissing Gwen’s cheek and slipping his palm into hers. Oh.

“I _am_ waiting.”

Arthur grabs Merlin’s wrists because he needs to touch but doesn’t know where to start. “I told you not to.”

“I did anyway.” There’s a desperate look in Merlin’s eyes, like Arthur might disappear any second.

They sink deeper into the shadows, out of sight as they lose themselves in kisses.

Arthur pins Merlin’s hands above his head, a touch too tight. Merlin moans and it’s like he never left. Gratitude fills Arthur until he’s aching with it, eyes stinging as he bites at Merlin’s lips and rocks into him. Their trapped cocks grind together. He holds Merlin tighter, squeezing his wrists until Merlin moans again, hips jutting forward.

“You’re back,” Merlin says, breathless and desperate. His thigh slides between Arthur’s legs.

Arthur sucks Merlin’s neck, stopping only when breathing through his nose isn’t enough and he’s getting dizzy. “I’m back,” he pants, riding Merlin’s thigh like they’re teenagers.

Merlin’s pinned to the wall; the roll of his hips is jittery and frantic. He whines to be allowed more movement. Arthur shifts to hold Merlin with one hand and fumbles with both their zips, not willing to break their kisses or step back. Clumsy, he grips their cocks in his fist and tugs. Eyes closed, he breathes in Merlin’s scent. He’s home again.

“I’m back,” he says, repeating himself like a mantra as a counterpoint to each pull of their cocks.

Merlin gasps, coming silently into Arthur’s palm. Sliding the tip of his cock up and down Merlin’s slick shaft, Arthur tumbles after him.

He kisses Merlin, clinging and not letting go. “And I’m not leaving you again.”

* * *

8\. 

Warning: Exhibitionism

To celebrate their six month anniversary, Arthur takes Merlin to dinner at the nicest restaurant in the city, located on the roof of a five star hotel. Merlin doesn’t love Arthur for his money, but occasionally it’s very nice, and Merlin is full and satisfied by the time they step back onto the lift that will take them to the ground floor.

The lift is made of glass and placed directly in the middle of the hotel (which, okay, over the top; Merlin will never understand rich people, Arthur included), but they’ve only gone down a few floors when Arthur presses the emergency stop button and brings them to a halt.

“Arthur?”

“Just trust me,” Arthur says, and kisses him.

The kiss turns heated quickly, and Merlin finds himself pressed back against the lift; he can feel Arthur’s heat pressing against him.

This is Arthur’s exhibitionism coming into play, Merlin thinks. He probably wants a handjob—anyone can see them, after all—and that’s okay, Merlin can handle that.

Except then Arthur turns him around so he’s facing the glass instead, Arthur’s hands on his hips as he nips Merlin’s ear lightly.

“Arthur, what...”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur assures him. “Not going to fuck you here, I know you don’t want that, but you just look so _good_ in that suit.”

Exhibitionism might not get Merlin particularly hot and bothered like it does Arthur, but he certainly gets off on the fact that _Arthur_ gets off on it, so Merlin nods his head in agreement.

He feels Arthur smile into his hair as he reaches around and unbuttons Merlin’s slacks, pulling them down so they pool around Merlin’s ankles.

There’s the sound of a foil packet being opened, and when Arthur’s fingers trace around Merlin’s hole, they are slick with lube.

Merlin laughs, breathlessly. “Bastard. You had this all planned.”

“Maybe,” Arthur murmurs, and inserts one finger, then another without pause. He stretches Merlin leisurely, and Merlin clenches around the digits, trying to encourage Arthur to do more.

Instead, the lift begins descending again, and immediately Merlin stiffens, looking over at the lift buttons warily. And sure enough—the button for the lobby is lit up.

“You— _oh_ ,” he falters when Arthur’s fingers nudge against his prostate for a moment. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Arthur says, sounding unapologetic. The fingers inside him proceed to twist and scissor, and Merlin can’t suppress a moan.

He desperately needs to come before they get to the lobby.

Not for the first time, Merlin wonders why he’s dating an exhibitionist, but at the same time, he finds that he’s turned on almost against his will. Maybe exhibitionism doesn’t appeal to him like it does Arthur, no, but if anyone happens to see them, they would see that that he has an amazingly hot boyfriend who wants him; that Arthur is _his_.

And _that_ thought gets him going like nothing else.

Still, Arthur is being a tease more than anything, fucking him ever-so-casually with his fingers, and there is no way Merlin will ever come from that, so he pushes back against them, forcing Arthur’s fingers to go deeper.

Arthur curls them, and Merlin throws his head back, hands pressed against the glass as he groans, then whimpers when Arthur pulls his fingers almost all the way out before once again ramming them in.

“Fuck, Arthur,” he pants, squirming. Arthur’s fingers are hitting his prostate on almost every thrust, and Merlin is close, _so close_ , when suddenly silk is being wrapped around his cock. Merlin vaguely registers it as Arthur’s handkerchief before he finally comes with a choked off cry, the mess being caught neatly inside it.

Arthur removes the handkerchief and withdraws his fingers at the same time; Merlin lets out a whine at the loss, but he is quick to stand up again when he realises just how close they are to the lobby.

The two of them straighten themselves up, trying to look like they haven’t been doing anything inappropriate as the lift finally comes to a stop and the doors open.

 

They receive some funny looks as they walk across the lobby, but Merlin tries to ignore that, slipping his hand into Arthur’s.

“When we get back to your place I’ll be sure to return the favour,” Merlin tells him quietly. What he doesn’t say is _maybe we should try that again sometime_.

One day he will. Probably.

* * *

9\. 

Merlin had just given up on doing anything either constructive or entertaining with his Friday night when his phone beeped with an incoming text message. When he picked it up, he wasn’t surprised to see Arthur’s name. Merlin had a finely honed instinct for booty calls.

_Home alone?_

_Yes,_ Merlin typed back. _Gwen’s out getting laid. I’m not._

_You are now,_ Arthur shot back a second later, and Merlin grinned. 

Five minutes later, he opened the door to a tipsy, grinning Arthur, with rumpled hair and collar and cuffs unbuttoned. “Failed on the pull, did you?” Merlin said

“Couldn’t find anyone with big enough ears,” Arthur replied.

The ear jokes were getting old, but Merlin let Arthur grab them when Merlin pushed him against the door and dropped to his knees. Arthur‘s cock came out of his trousers and into Merlin’s hand with a heavy slap.

Merlin mouthed at his balls and stroked the shaft until it strained for him. His mouth watered to get around it, and his arse clenched in anticipation. “You got a condom?” 

“I figured you’d have some.”

Which meant he couldn’t blow Arthur against the door, but all right, at least they’d already be in bed. Merlin got up and kissed Arthur a few times before pulling him back to his bedroom.

They kept kissing while they got each other naked, then Merlin dug into the bedside table for the box of condoms he kept there. He should have enough to suck Arthur and get a good fucking in return.

The box was empty. 

“Bollocks.” He’d forgotten that Leon had come over on Tuesday, just for dinner, but then one thing had led to another, and shazam! Empty condom box. 

Arthur groaned from the bed where he was stroking his very hard, very bare cock. “Trust you to agree to sex with no condoms around.”

“Trust you to offer sex and not be arsed to bring any,” Merlin shot back. “Hold onto your bits, I’ll go get some of Gwen’s.”

Gwen had been halfway through a box of condoms when she and Lance had gone exclusive and stopped using them. He pitched the box to Arthur in triumph before hopping into bed. “She never throws anything out.” 

The box hit him back in the chest. “Well, she should have binned these. They expired six months ago.”

“Aw, fuck.”

“Not unless Boots is still open.” 

***

Boots was closed. Arthur and his erection pressed up behind him as they stared into the window of the closed shop. “I just wanted to fuck you.”

Merlin sighed, then snapped his fingers. “Gwaine lives across the street.”

“I know. I don’t want to fuck Gwaine.”

“Yeah, but who do you know with a better stock of condoms? He has so many different kinds, Boots probably buys wholesale from him.”

“He won’t be home yet.”

“I have his emergency key.”

***

Gwaine was out of condoms. 

“How is this possible?” Merlin moaned.

“Shit. He threw SausageFest 2012 last weekend.”

“I know, but surely he would have restocked by now?” Merlin poked through the cabinet again, just to be sure.

And then they both froze as they heard laughter and the sound of keys.

“Quick!” Merlin pulled Arthur to Gwaine’s closet. They stumbled over a football, but managed to get the door closed just before Gwaine stumbled in with his date.

“Here we are,” Gwaine was saying. “Just you, me, and a brand new box of condoms.”

Merlin groaned, the sound muffled by Arthur’s shoulder and the giggles of Gwaine’s partner. Soon enough, her giggles turned to moans and the wet sounds of sex ratcheted Merlin’s arousal back into heady, unbearable levels.

A similar state gripped Arthur, who started fumbling open their trousers. “Really?” Merlin hissed, but Arthur kissed him into silence, and soon Merlin didn’t care where they were anymore.

His cock slid under Arthur’s shirt to find a warm place to rub against his belly. Arthur’s cock found his skin in return, and they hitched together with gasps and kisses until Merlin finally got the release he needed. Arthur’s arms tightened around him, drawing out Merlin’s bliss with his humping until he shot his load all over Merlin.

The closet door banged open just as they were melting into another kiss. 

“I’ve always thought you two should come out of the closet already.” Still half hard himself, Gwaine eyed them with amused annoyance. “You can start by getting the hell out of mine.”

***

The walk back to Merlin’s was more shamefaced than usual.

Clutching two of Gwaine’s new condoms in his hand, Merlin decided it was worth it.

* * *

10.

Modern AU, Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA)

Warnings: Lack of communication could be construed as Dub-Con

Merlin staggered into the Drachenwald encampment, dropping Arthur’s shield onto the pile of armour beside their dome-tent. Stripping off his tunic, he collapsed on his cot. “Gods, Perc, I’m wrecked.” He rotated his shoulder. “Every inch of me aches. I swear Arthur thinks I’m his personal squire.” He’d spent the day at Pennsic’s Woods Battle, squiring for the newly authorized Arthur and trudging up Runestone Hill repeatedly to retrieve things Arthur had forgotten. 

Percival squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “Arthur treats you more like a servant than a best-friend, Merlin,” he commented. “You’re a mess. C’mere, shall I rub your shoulders?” 

Merlin crossed his arms self-consciously across his narrow chest. “You don’t mind?” 

Percival smiled reassuringly and nudged him over onto his front. “Looks like you need it.”

Percival’s hands were tentative at first, thumbs running along Merlin’s bony spine, fingers squeezing his shoulders and stroking his back. As Merlin relaxed, sighing happily, Percival’s strokes grew more confident. He worked in silence, zeroing in on Merlin’s worst knots, pressing soothing circles until they released. He worked slowly down Merlin’s back, only pausing when he reached Merlin’s waistband. 

Percival drew away, and Merlin must have whined a little, because the hands returned to Merlin’s legs, working his sore muscles from calves to thighs.

Oh.

That was... nice.

Warmth radiated from Percival’s strong hands. Merlin had no idea thighs could be so sensitive - every stroke felt – marvelous. He couldn’t help arching into the touch. Percival roamed higher, palms squeezing, thumbs dipping briefly to stroke between Merlin’s thighs. When he reached the curve of Merlin’s bottom, he froze. Merlin moaned, rolling against him until Percival’s wide hands fit themselves over the rounds of Merlin’s backside, kneading softly.

Percival made a choked sound, shifting suddenly to straddle Merlin’s thighs. Merlin could feel the heat of Percival’s chest where it barely touched his back, could feel his hair stir under Percival’s breath. Then, so lightly he was barely sure it was happening, he felt the graze of wool trousers against his hose, the outline of Percival’s hardness sliding along the crease between his cheeks. So gentle, so slow.

Merlin half-expected to be crushed beneath Percival’s broad frame, but the larger boy leaned on his hands, the only contact an ever-so-gentle stroking of Percival’s hips against Merlin’s thighs, over and over. Merlin sobbed silently – it felt SO good. Every stroke fired needles of pleasure from scalp to toes. His entire groin felt about to explode. He bit his lip in the aching indecision between grinding down into the cot, or arching back against Percival’s hips. A tingling crept out from his balls and he couldn’t contain a groan of anticipation – the sudden certainty that he was going to come – his first orgasm with someone else. It was like the feeling of a storm on the horizon, a magical spell about to be released.

Percival’s breath was heavy on his neck; Merlin could feel his arms trembling; see the tension in the hands bracketing his shoulders. Merlin ground his hips back as high as he could, squeezing his thighs. With a muffled gasp, Percival suddenly stilled, pressed hard against Merlin’s ass, pinning him. Merlin felt the boy’s cock twitch through the confines of his trousers, then a hot wetness trickled down Merlin’s crack. He had time to think, “Gods, he’s coming! I made him come!” before his body reacted and he ground down, soaking his bedding with the waves of his release. Heart pounding, he collapsed on his cot like a rag-doll.

The warm weight of Percival pulled away, leaving a too-cool space in his wake. “Oh gods, Merlin, I’m sorry.” Percival’s strangled distress was evident. “I…” He broke off.

Merlin rolled over. Percival looked mortified, about to bolt. “Hey!” He caught Percival’s hand. “Gods, no, Percival, why would you apologize? That was… I’ve – never felt anything like it. It was the most amazing thing I’ve done, ever!” He couldn’t hold back the wide, blissed-out smile that crept across his face. 

Percival’s face slowly lit up. “You really didn’t mind…? I don’t know what I thought I was doing…”

“Well,” Merlin said, tugging Percival back to the cot. “Whatever it was, I hope you’ll do more of it.” He grinned up at Percival. “It was utterly fucking brilliant.” Cupping Percival’s neck, he moved in for a slow kiss.

And if Arthur walked in to find them still kissing hours later, well, he was just going to have to deal with it. He didn’t OWN Merlin, after all.

* * *

11\. 

**Warnings:** watersports

“I’m going to piss.” Merlin announces as he steals away from the knights gathered around the campfire. Arthur catches his eye and attempts some sort of eyebrow communication, but he has no idea what right, left, right, right means in brow language so he just shrugs his shoulders and walks off.

Not trusting the pranking nature of his comrades, he walks several feet into the forest and looks around suspiciously before untying his laces and pulling out his cock. He’s about to have the best piss of his life, but is interrupted with a warm presence at his back and a strong hand around his prick.

“Oi! You scared me,” he shrieks.

“Couldn’t have you getting lost in the woods,” comes Arthur’s voice right in his ear. His King gives his soft cock a squeeze and tugs a little. “We’ll have to be quick.”

“I really do have to pee.” Merlin says, though he can already feel the blood rushing to his dick.

“After. It’ll make this better anyways.” Arthur responds, brushing his thumb over the tip and slicking him with his own precome.

Arthur takes things slow, letting his body adjust to the new sensations and coaxing him into a frenzied arousal. He’s hanging in this perfect balance of needing to pee and needing to come and he’s never felt something so incredible in his life. It’s almost as good as when his magic courses through him.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Arthur moans into his ear, hand tightening around his cock as he firmly strokes him. “Not sure if you’re going to piss or come. Feeling so much pressure you just know you have to find release one way or another.”

Merlin is rendered speechless at the overwhelming tension, leaning back into Arthur’s warm body and throwing his head back to rest against his shoulder. He has to bite his lip to keep in a strangled groan.

“I know you can take a little more. I promise it’ll feel good. Do you trust me?” Arthur asks, hot breath puffing against the side of his face. Merlin nods in answer, hoping he gets the message because he’s entirely unable to speak at the moment.

Another hand reaches around his body and gently rests against his stomach, just above the base of his cock. Without warning, Arthur presses the heel of his hand deep into his lower abdomen. Merlin keens and arches off him, groin throbbing, sparks of pain and pleasure jolting through his body; all the way down to the tips of his toes and back up to his overly large ears. 

“That’s it. Come on, you can do this.” Arthur says encouragingly as he speeds up his hand, pumping furiously while he pushes his heel further into Merlin’s stomach. The pressure is just **_too much_** and he thinks he might die from the overstimulation. Beads of sweat gather over his brow and trickle down his temples.

“You’re so close. Come for me.” Arthur says, and _yes_ , finally he feels his balls tighten to a nearly painful degree and then he’s coming all over the forest floor in long stringy spurts. The relief is sweet, but incomplete. There’s still this slight pressure deep in his groin and he’s suddenly slammed with the immediate need for a second release, to empty his bladder and stop this maddening strain on his body.

“Do it.” Arthur says, but he can’t be serious because Merlin’s cock is still in his hand.

“No, I--” Merlin is cut off with a nip to his ear and Arthur’s heel pressing, pressing, pressing into him until he can’t hold it any longer and lets his body go lax as the first stream of urine rushes out of him.

The hiss of his piss is loud and obscene, and he blushes as he realizes Arthur can probably feel the heat of it passing through his spent cock. He feels embarrassed and pretty humiliated, but letting everything go feels like a second orgasm and he can’t restrain a long, guttural moan from escaping his lips.

“You’re amazing. You did such a good job.” Arthur whispers in his ear as he uses his free hand to stroke Merlin’s cheek.

His body goes limp in Arthur’s embrace and he lets his eyes close in contentment. Ruined. Arthur’s gone and ruined him for even a simple piss in the woods. As a tender kiss is placed against his neck, he finds he doesn’t mind.

* * *

12\. 

Warnings: Watersports, D/s

It starts simple. Percival on his knees. Arthur standing in front of the toilet.

“Take me out,” Arthur orders.

He’s touched Arthur’s cock, but not like this, not soft, not without intent to get him off. But opening his jeans, reaching in and finding the thick shaft, pulling it out without getting caught on anything, like it’s precious (it is, to Percival), sends Percival’s heartbeat into overdrive. He doesn’t fondle, because this isn’t about sex no matter how hard he is, but cradles it gently, angling the tip toward the bowl, keeping his fingers out of the way as the first stream hits the water. 

The hair stands up on the back of his neck at the sound. Breathing becomes difficult. It takes every ounce of concentration he possesses not to let his hands shake and earn a punishment for allowing Arthur to miss.

When Arthur’s done, Percival cleans up. Shakes him gently. Wipes away the droplets that cling to the slit. Tucks him back into his pants.

He waits until Arthur leaves before licking his fingers.

\-----

It takes a week for him to add a new step.

Percival kneels there, head bowed, breathing in the rich smell of Arthur’s piss before it loses some of its pungency when it mixes with the water. It’s warmer here than anywhere else in the bathroom, temperatures higher either because of Percival’s excitement or Arthur’s sleepy body or just the hot urine adding degrees to the mix. The reason doesn’t matter. Only the drops of perspiration at Percival’s temples do. His hair clings to his skin by the time Arthur is done.

“Clean me up, boy,” Arthur instructs. Just like he’s done every other time.

Percival hesitates. He nearly chokes when he speaks. “May I use my mouth, Sir?”

Arthur’s sharp intake of breath makes him ache. “You may.” His voice is lower than usual. 

Without letting him go, Percival leans forward and drags his tongue over the wet tip. The few drops that linger behind are as bitter and hot as he’s dreamed about. He licks each and every single one away. When he’s done, he seals his lips around the crown and sucks gently, his lashes fluttering shut as the moan he can’t control rumbles from his throat.

As soon as the door shuts behind Arthur, Percival yanks hard on his own cock. Just once. That’s all it takes to come all over the floor.

He licks that away, too.

\-----

Three days later, he’s already in position when Arthur wanders in from waking.

“Take me out,” Arthur says around a yawn.

Percival obeys, but rather than aim toward the bowl, he leans forward and takes most of Arthur’s soft length in his mouth.

Arthur stills. He’s fully awake. Neither speaks or looks away. Percival can’t breathe but it has nothing to do with his stuffed mouth and everything to do with the sudden fear he won’t get what he’s been craving.

Slowly, Arthur lifts his hand and rests it on the top of Percival’s head. As his broad thumb caresses Percival’s temple, a vein pulses in his cock, and the first stream of piss stutters into Percival’s waiting throat.

He swallows as quickly as he can, every inch of his skin scalding to the touch, but Arthur gets hard as the flow goes on, nudging the back of Percival’s throat in its bid to fill it. Percival gags on what he can’t consume, hot fluid spilling from the corners of his lips where he hasn’t created a perfect seal, but what he loses splatters onto his neck and bare chest, branding him as Arthur’s as much as this act does. He wants to close his eyes and revel in the gift, but he can’t tear his gaze away from the hunger in Arthur’s face.

So he stays like that for the duration, even when Arthur is done, his tongue sweeping around the tip and into the slit to clean him as he’s done before. When Arthur pushes on his head, that’s the only cue he needs to stop, and he sits back onto his heels, cock aching but his flesh hot and bursting.

“Come.”

The order is so unexpected, Percival gasps. His body reacts, because it can’t not, balls pulling tight, cock jerking as he shoots inside his pants. It soaks through the sweats he sleeps in, dripping down to his crack.

Arthur smiles. There’s no doubt he knows Percival’s ass is now even more ready for him.

* * *

13\. 

**Warnings:** fantasizing, dirty talk (are those warnings or enticements?)

“Morgana’s brother is gorgeous.”

Merlin laughs and turns over to face his girlfriend. “Should I be worried?”

Freya’s eyes are bright in the light filtering through the curtains. “Of course not. No more than I should be, don’t think I didn’t see you looking.”

Even though he knows she’s joking, Merlin kisses her. “You know I wouldn’t, don’t you?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She nudges their foreheads together. “I’m not jealous, I brought it up because we both think Arthur’s good-looking. And I didn’t chat with him much but you two seemed to like each other.”

“What?” He blinks at her, but she’s still meeting his eyes, steady and smiling. And she can’t mean what he thinks she means, but he doesn’t think she can mean anything _else_.

Nobody ever believes him when he says she’s got a wicked streak, but they don’t get to see the mischief light her eyes up like he does. “I’d like it, if you would.”

They’ve talked about this before, in the abstract, how if they found someone they both liked enough they might try a threesome, or even something long-term. Merlin’s thought about it, how it would feel to reach across Freya and hold someone else’s hand in the dark. He’s never imagined anyone specific, but now that Freya’s said it, he can’t help thinking of Arthur, of bright blue eyes and blond hair and the stiff demeanor that covers up a sense of humor, and it feels like all the blood in his body goes to his cock at once. “I think I’d like it,” he says, resisting the urge to whisper. It’s just them in the flat.

“You two were on the couch while Gwen and I were talking, and I wondered what it would be like if you kissed him, how it would look. I think he’d be rough with you, but only after he was sure you’d like it.” He shivers, and she bites his collarbone.

“He’d be gentle with you, though,” Merlin says, shifting his hips. “He’s chivalrous that way.”

Freya smiles and cups her hand on the outside of his boxers. “You’d have to demonstrate that I’m not fragile.” She hums, kisses him and teases at his waistband. “He’s got a nice mouth. I’d like to watch him blow you.”

“Jesus _Christ_.”

“He could blow you,” she continues, finally letting her fingers brush his cock, “and then after you came, he could eat me out, so he could taste both of us.” That makes him gasp and buck his hips. Freya lets a grin free and takes one of his hands, guides it between her legs so he can feel how wet she’s getting. “You could take turns.”

Merlin can feel his ears going red even as he brushes his thumb across her clit, making her squirm. “That gets us off, but what are we to do for him?”

“Anything. Everything.” She traps his hand between her legs and lets her head fall back, as turned on as he is. “Maybe he could fuck me, or, God, you, or we could blow him, or—oh, darling, that’s so good.”

He’s starting to ache for relief, thinking of Arthur spread out between them, how those big hands would look cupping Freya’s face, how it would feel to be pinned against the bed by all that muscle. He babbles everything he’s thinking until Freya is whimpering against his mouth and he’s so near to coming he’s wild with it. “Please,” he manages when he runs out of words.

“He shook my hand when we left,” she says, body going taut and tense, “and all I could think was I want both of your fingers inside me at once, till I can’t tell who’s who and I just—”

Merlin jolts into orgasm and loses the rest of her sentence, loses anything but the image of it all, coming in his boxers and on her hand like a fucking teenager. Freya gasps into his mouth and puts her hand between her legs to finish herself, impatient and beautiful. They grin at each other afterwards, shaky and giddy, the possibility almost tangible between them.

Eventually, Merlin makes himself get up to get a washcloth and change. Freya’s voice stops him before he gets to the door. “You should call Arthur tomorrow and invite him for dinner. We’ll see how things go from there.”

* * *

14\. 

Merlin pushes open the door of the stall, slides the lock in place and waits. 

It’s not long before the sound of the door opening and heavy footsteps echo through the empty bathroom and Merlin holds his breath as someone enters the stall to his left.

He’s not sure of the exact protocol for these types of things. Does he speak? Does he seal his lips around the circular cut out in the wall and wait for the heavy feel of a cock on his tongue? Thankfully, it seems, the man on the other side knows all too well. The sound of a zipper being pulled down is quickly followed by a rustle of clothing and Merlin finds himself dropping to his knees like he’s tethered to it.

Harsh pants resonate from the other side of the wall, and the knowing slick sound of skin on skin is a teasing prelude. Then the tip of a pink cock edges through the hole in the partition. Merlin’s eyes widen at the sight as the man pushes further, until the nest of curls at the base of his cock comes into view and Merlin takes a moment to appreciate the sheer size of him. Merlin’s lips tug upwards into a soft smile and something warm flares in the pit of his stomach. The overbearing desire to taste sears under his skin. The first touch is tentative as Merlin runs a blunt nail along the length of a thin blue vein. The man’s cock is long, thinner in girth than Merlin’s own but no less tempting as a pearl of pre-come beads at his slit.

It’s madness but Merlin’s mouth is watering at the sight of it and without dwelling further he slides down to capture the droplet with the tip of his tongue. The taste is sharp and Merlin leans closer to swirl his tongue around the head with more determination, lapping at the man’s slit hungry for more.

The bloke hisses and Merlin takes a sense of pride in that and seals his lips over the head of his cock and sucks, hard. A palm slaps against the wall, it shakes the wooden stall between them, but Merlin simply allows his jaw to slacken and his lips to draw further down to the base. Merlin steadies the man’s cock with one hand, the other presses against his own crotch, trapped tightly in his jeans.

His head is heavy with it, the musky scent of the man’s cock fills his mouth and his nostrils until Merlin could almost drown in it. The steady rhythm he’s built up becomes increasingly harder to control as the man’s hips begin to stutter. The desire to drag a noise, any noise, out of him drives Merlin to bob his head quicker, curl his tongue with broad stripes on every upstroke. It seems to be working, if the broken whispers of cursed ‘fucks’ is anything to go by.

The guy’s thrusts grow erratic, moans slipping from his lips as his cock nudges against the back of Merlin’s throat. The pace is brutal. The corner of Merlin’s lips ache and tears sting behind his eyes but when the boy starts to pull back, murmurs, “Close…shit. I’m going to…” Merlin slides a hand under the stall and wraps his fingers around the man’s ankle. ‘Stay,’ he wants to say, but his mouth is a bit preoccupied at the moment, so he clutches on tighter, runs his nails down the back of the man’s calf and hums a contented sigh as his cock pulses against Merlin’s tongue and streaks of come paint the inside of his lips.

“Fuck, Merlin, your mouth.” The man pants and Merlin runs the back of his hand over his jaw, thumb pressing against the smirk on his lips and laughs. He slides off his knees and settles back against the base of the toilet. The click of the stall lock slides out of place and Merlin leans up to unlatch his own. He stares up with a lazy smile as the man stands in the open doorway bracketed by the fluorescence of the strip- lights overhead.

“The things I do for you,” Merlin sighs and Arthur slides to the floor, blissed out expression on his face as he rests his chin on Merlin’s thigh. Merlin’s still hard and he rolls his hips in demand.

“No walls,” Merlin instructs, pleased as Arthur starts to nuzzle along the inseam of his jeans. “I want your hands on me.”

* * *

15\. 

**Warnings:** Dystopia, non-con/dub-con of the MUHAHA EVIL SCIENTIST variety, destiny.

**Of Monsters and Men**

When Merlin had nightmares about what it would be like to be caught, they were never—even in his wildest, most terrifying dreams—they were never like this. 

His body is on fire, lit up from the seemingly never-ending pit of golden magic that pools in his spine and floods out his finger. He fades in and out of consciousness, hardly able to understand what is happening to him, chained by the wrists and ankles but only his cock is bound, leaving him free to scream out in uncontrollable pain that rages a war with pleasure. 

People cycle through, all wearing lab coats and thick, leather gloves. Merlin knows their detached sensation intimately, even if they've only ever touched one part of him. Some of them have kind eyes but most won't meet his gaze. He begs them to stop, pleads with them to have some mercy, even if it is merely death. But all he gets for his efforts of speech are sad twists of mouths or worse, cold laughs and always, he _always_ gets their fingers, impersonal leather dipping between his thighs and pressing, pushing and curling until they're breaching him, never having to stretch him since someone is constantly there to milk him and keep him wide and open.

Too often, his eyes roll back and darkness overwhelms his screams. 

Merlin tries to count the days but they fade, one into another, until—

His eyes are neither kind or sad, instead, laced with fury and white-hot righteous anger that echoes in his voice.

"How long has he been here?"

"Three weeks and still going strong, sir. The output peaks at five hundred MagicWatts an hour with the drug and reaches up to fifteen hundred during stimulation. We could power London for years."

Merlin wants to listen to the other voice, explaining what they're doing to him but he can only focus on the man in front of him, the way his bare hands press against Merlin’s forehead so _gentle_ but sure, as if he were a man to be touched, instead of a monster.

"You can't keep harnessing magic from him," the blond man says, running his fingertips over Merlin's cracked lips. "You'll ruin him—a fate worse than death."

"Please," Merlin says, tongue snaking out to wrap around the man's fingers. "Please." 

Perhaps it is death Merlin is begging for. Perhaps it is mercy. Humanity is something he could never wish for and yet, it is only here that he finds it.

Blue eyes blaze brighter and Merlin wails, his body still overstimulated and his cock heavy as lead on his belly, swollen to the point of worry and leaking into a pool of come that never dries on his heated flesh. He twists in his chains, crying out as he jerks into the man's touch—still at his face but also now trailing down his inflamed skin.

"You can't drain a God of magic made from the earth," the blond whispers. "He will lie here, magic fueling us for eternities but it won't change anything."

It sounds like a testimony. Merlin moans, body bowing.

"He has done nothing but live and I will _not_ let my father continue to hunt a people whose only crime was to love what they found in each other. This ends here," the man that can only be Arthur Pendragon says, words firm and his touch—oh, his touch like a disciple as he strokes Merlin's cock with irrefutably strong strokes. 

"My father has not yet broken your faith," Arthur says, now looking into Merlin's eyes. "I can see it in your eyes." 

He tilts his head, teasingly. "You are... quite beautiful, considering the size of your ears." 

Merlin wants to mock him but he can't find his tongue now, not when his body is finding pleasure that vows release.

"Come for me," he commands, arrogant but brave. "Magic is an extension of your civil liberties. A magic that cannot and will not part from you without your consent from this day onward. You have my word."

Then he smiles, white teeth promising, as his other hand slides down, cradling Merlin's balls, before three bare fingers, no leather that spoke only of cruel, false intensions—just the heavy press of those glorious fingers into the throbbing bundle of nerves that sends Merlin's soaring.

Merlin comes, rising, his hands now free to wrap around his own savior and their mouths meet in a kiss that delivers them both into a new beginning—a new dawn of hope.

* * *

16\. 

**Warnings: use of restraints**

"Merlin," Arthur’s voice is brusque as he pauses by Merlin’s desk. _Damn, he looks good in a suit_. "My client’s on his way up. Bring those files into my office, and some coffee."

“Sure,” Merlin nods, already moving. Arthur Pendragon isn't known for his patience, and just because Merlin's shagging his boss it doesn't mean he gets any special treatment in the office.

Merlin enters awkwardly, files trapped under one arm as he struggles with the door, trying and failing to close it behind him. 

"You could put the files down _first_ Merlin," Arthur rolls his eyes and smirks, a flash of crooked teeth between sinfully pink lips. Merlin remembers how those lips looked stretched around his cock this morning and feels a flush of heat rip through him. He dumps the files on the desk and turns back to close the door behind. 

For the rest of the afternoon Merlin plays the role of the perfect assistant. He takes notes efficiently, provides coffee on demand and tries to stay focused on the job. Arthur’s not making it easy; he's deliberately provoking Merlin by being bossier than usual. But Merlin knows how this game works by now. It’s obvious what Arthur wants from him later, and Merlin’s always more than happy to oblige.

xOx

"Strip for me."

Merlin stands with his back to the bedroom door, watching as Arthur obeys him instantly, shucking off his office clothes until he’s naked. Arthur's cock is already thickening, rising heavy between his legs. Merlin loves how desperate Arthur is for this. 

"Pick up your tie," he says, holding out his hand. "Give it to me. Now get on the bed, face down.” Merlin runs the smooth silk of Arthur's tie through his fingers as Arthur moves, crawling onto his bed and spreading himself out for Merlin. "Did I _tell_ you to put your legs apart?" Merlin chuckles, "no, it’s okay -- leave them like that. I love how eager you are."

Merlin kicks off his shoes and removes his clothes, keeping his tie in his hand along with Arthur’s. He climbs onto the bed and straddles Arthur's lower back, leaning down to breathe in his scent as he kisses the warm skin of Arthur's shoulders. "Now..." he murmurs. "Last time you weren't very good at keeping still, so I'm going to help you with that today." He moves Arthur’s arms up above his head and starts to wrap their ties around his wrists. "Is this okay? If you don't want this you can tell me."

"No..." Arthur replies quickly. "I mean... I want it." He sounds strained, desperate. 

"Good." Merlin secures Arthur's wrists to the wooden headboard, then moves to kneel between Arthur's spread legs and slaps his arse lightly, making Arthur jerk and whimper. "Up on your knees for me now, so I can really see you."

Arthur folds his legs under himself, pushing his lower body up and displaying himself to Merlin. He's so beautiful like this, so vulnerable and perfect as he quivers, waiting for Merlin's touch. 

Merlin strokes Arthur’s back lightly, enjoying the smooth skin under his hands. He sweeps them downwards, skimming the generous curve of Arthur’s arse, the back of his thighs. Arthur makes a little helpless sound.

“It’s okay,” Merlin murmurs soothingly. “I want to hear you.”

Merlin dips his head and tastes Arthur’s skin now, licking down the bumps of his spine and dropping teasing kisses on the dimples at the small of his back.

“ _Please_ ,” Arthur gasps.

Merlin smiles as he moves lower, nosing into the hot crack of Arthur’s arse and down to tongue at his balls. He’s surrounded by the hot, musky scent of his lover. Arthur might be his boss at work, but not here. Here, Merlin is in charge.

Arthur rocks back and whimpers. “ _Mer_ -lin!” 

Merlin takes pity on him and licks his way up to the tight furl of Arthur’s hole. He feels the muscle flutter beneath his tongue and Arthur moans. Merlin licks and sucks and dips inside with his tongue until Arthur’s sobbing and babbling incoherently. But Merlin doesn’t stop until Arthur’s come all over the sheets without his dick being touched, and his voice is hoarse from begging to be fucked.

“Now I’m going to fuck you until you come again,” Merlin promises.

Arthur groans and presses greedily back for more.

* * *

17\. 

Warning: chastity cage (male)

“Is that what I . . . think it is?” Arthur asked, gawping at the contraption between Merlin’s legs.

A half-hour before, Merlin had fixed a chastity cage to his cock. The cold steel had been unpleasant at first, but it had warmed to body temperature quickly, and the thought of showing Arthur—doing this for Arthur—had settled his nerves and turned him on in equal measure. Now, though, with the way Arthur was looking at him, Merlin flushed, suddenly feeling the vulnerability of his nakedness while Arthur stood fully clothed, poised at the foot of their bed in his expensive suit. 

He smiled, a nervous laugh bubbling up along with his explanation. “I thought it might be fun,” he said, gesturing at Arthur’s half-packed valise. “If I wore it while you’re away.” 

“But I’ll be gone for three weeks,” Arthur said, his disbelief plain. His gaze slid from Merlin’s face to his cock, forbidden beneath the cage, and trussed balls. Self-conscious, Merlin cupped himself, feeling the smooth metal and the soft skin beneath. 

“I know. But I want . . . I want you to know I’m yours. And I think it might be—inspiring. For my art.” 

Arthur’s eyes darkened, and he came forward, reaching out for Merlin to drag him close. He pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s lips, one hand drifting lower. Merlin’s breath caught at the gentle touch to his sensitive balls. 

“You won’t be able to wank?” 

“Not until you unlock me.” Any arousal would be uncomfortable at best, at worst painful. He was already getting a taste of that with Arthur standing so close. 

“But . . . are you sure?” Arthur’s voice was hoarse. 

He pressed a small key into Arthur’s palm and grinned. “Just don’t lose it,” he said, “or I’ll be stuck in this thing and _that_ would make for a very awkward trip to the locksmith.”

~*~

Never had one of Arthur’s business trips felt so long. Every day, Merlin went to work in his studio wearing baggy trousers, channeling his frustration into his painting. Deep reds and fiery oranges found their way onto his canvas, something crackling underneath his skin. The sight of the cage, the feel of it swinging heavily between his thighs, gave him a secret thrill. It was strange, but after so many years with so many men, he liked feeling owned.

At night, Arthur called and whispered lewd fantasies into his ear, the sound of wanking on the end of the line making him leak, half-hard and trapped, almost mad.

~*~

Merlin was jolted awake in the early morning by lips pressing kisses against his abdomen. His heart thundered, only quieting when he looked down and realised it was Arthur. The smell of his cologne mingled with clean sweat, and Merlin buried his fingers in Arthur’s hair.

“What are you doing home so—” 

“We finished the deal,” Arthur said, his smile brilliant. “I took an early flight. Couldn’t wait to see you.” 

“A-arthur,” Merlin stuttered as the kisses that had woken him continued, moved lower. He felt Arthur’s tongue snake out and lick between the bars that caged his cock.

“Been dreaming about you,” Arthur said, murmuring against his skin. The warm puffs of air against his prick made him hot all over. “Thought about fucking you like this, locked up so you couldn’t come.” 

A high-pitched whine escaped Merlin’s mouth as Arthur teased him through the cage with probing fingers, cupping him possessively. His cock had already fattened up to the point of discomfort, swelling against the metal. He’d wanted to draw out the pleasure, make his freeing a ritualistic culmination of the desire that had built over the better part of a month like a slow, sweet torture, but now everything but Arthur’s mouth vanished as Merlin’s sore bollocks were lashed with a knowing tongue. “Don’t. Please,” he whispered. “Let me . . . Please.” 

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. For a moment Merlin worried that Arthur really would leave him like this, but then nimble fingers were releasing him. His cock hardened to fullness against his belly, dark with pent-up arousal. When Arthur touched him again, he shivered at the magnified sensation. 

“Wanna see how much you’ve saved up for me.” Arthur mumbled words as he took Merlin’s sore erection into his mouth, sucking hard. Merlin keened as he arched off the bed, thrusting deep into Arthur’s throat as his cock blurted precome, balls too full to hold it in.

* * *

18.

Warnings: Claustrophobia

The hoofbeats are getting louder, and there’s nothing to do but hide. Arthur doesn’t even have a sword.

“Get in here,” Arthur hisses, but Merlin can’t do it. He stares at the tiny hole in the earth and feels panic flooding his chest.

“I won’t fit,” Merlin says, because Arthur hardly fits. The hole, which is perhaps more like a tiny cave, slopes gently into the ground. Arthur is nestled inside, lying on his back and looking up at Merlin with an expression of urgency.

“Merlin, get in here, or we both die.”

When Merlin still doesn’t move, Arthur changes his tack.

“Look, just keep your arms up.” He wiggles his fingers above his head. “Even if we get stuck, we can pull ourselves out.”

This is finally enough to convince Merlin to squeeze into the tiny cavity on top of Arthur. He holds himself up with his arms as Arthur helps guide him into the tiny space between the hardened rock and dirt of the upper wall and Arthur’s warm body. Arthur’s hands steady first his thighs, then his hips, his waist, and eventually just grasp at his forearms when he’s finally settled into the hole, his legs on either side of Arthur’s.

“We have to cover the opening now,” Arthur says, and Merlin nods. He grabs the branch Arthur wrested from a nearby tree and manoeuvres it to cover the entrance. It is dark and still where they are. The only sound is Arthur’s low, even breathing.

Terror wells up within Merlin. He can’t help but feel the pressure on all sides of his body. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating, like the hole keeps getting smaller, and it will swallow them.

He’s trembling and gasping for air, and he feels incredibly stupid, because he can’t help it. He strains his legs against the walls of the hole. He needs to move.

Arthur slots his fingers between Merlin’s and squeezes his hands.

“Not much longer,” he says.

“I can’t,” is all Merlin can get out, arching his back against the hard-packed earth above him.

“Shh,” Arthur says. “Be still. We can get out whenever we want to. We just don’t want to yet.”

“We can’t,” Merlin sobs.

“Yes, we can,” Arthur says. “Breathe with me.”

Merlin presses his face into Arthur’s neck, listening to his steady breathing, trying to match its pace. The smell of his sweat-slick skin soothes Merlin, centres him and reminds him of home.

Arthur is rocking against Merlin, pressing against his body. The motion steadies him, reminds him that they’ll be able to free themselves when the raiders have passed.

The ground begins to shake with the proximity of the horses. Merlin feels his calm slipping away, loses his breath, and Arthur has to help him find it again. Arthur is breathing loudly though his mouth, the sound of it his only stronghold. Arthur begins to rock more forcefully, pushing against him so hard that Merlin doesn’t notice the rumbling of the earth.

When Arthur’s breathing suddenly gets a little less steady and his voice breaks around a groan, Merlin realises that Arthur isn’t just rocking; he’s _rutting_.

Priorities and anxieties instantly readjust themselves in Merlin’s brain as he hones in on the feeling of Arthur’s hips driving up against his, and _fuck_ , Arthur’s prick is hard.

So Merlin kisses his neck and grinds down against him, and Arthur’s moan nearly shatters him.

Merlin feels Arthur try to pull his arms down into the hole, so he grabs his wrists and holds them there. Arthur groans and strains against him, so Merlin tightens his grip as he licks along Arthur’s jaw.

They roll their hips together, and it’s a frustrating mixture of _so good_ and _not enough_.

“Want to fuck you,” Arthur says, and suddenly, it is enough.

Merlin spirals through the headiness of Arthur’s words. Arthur tells him things about his body that make him want to stuff his cock past those lips, over that tongue, just to see if his mouth feels as good as it sounds.

“Your perfect body is going to make me come,” Arthur says.

Moments later, he makes good on the threat, surging up against Merlin and turning his head to seek Merlin’s lips. Merlin sucks Arthur in, relishing the way he comes undone.

Merlin comes in a sticky mess and soon realises that the ground is still. Digging his fingers into the dirt, he starts to shimmy his way above ground.

* * *

19.

The six most terrifying words in the English language are: come on Merlin, it’ll be fun. 

They’ve led to: attending a party in a sex shop and Merlin leaving with the word _slut_ stamped across his arse; getting trussed up as Snow White; and being arrested for accidentally smuggling magic mushrooms out of Greece. Really, he should learn to say no to Gwaine. 

Merlin shifts on the parquet of the hotel suite, rearranging his scruffy clothes and trying to make  
it look casual. All the furniture is glass and the buffet contains both people and food, the former  
– some of whom are undressed as opposed to underdressed – coating each other with handfuls of the  
latter, cream squishing through groping fingers, chocolate sauce dribbling down spines, cherries  
flickering red on pink as they pass mouth to mouth. Great. They’ve crashed a Black Forrest orgy.  
Shifting his weight, Merlin swipes a grape from the fruit bowl, accidentally meeting the unnaturally  
blue eyes of the woman in crimson who’s been watching him since they arrived.

“Come now, you can do better than that.” Slinking to his side, tits brushing his arm, she reaches  
past him for a cherry. She dips it into a bubbling chocolate fountain and holds it up to Merlin’s nose. 

“Um – ”

“Would you feel better about accepting if you knew my name?” Smiling crooked, wicked, and deeply  
red, she says, “It’s Nimueh.” 

“Mer – ” 

The rest of the word is lost, cherry turning into what the sex shop escapade taught him is a very  
miniature ball gag as Nimueh swings it into his mouth. Forcing a smile around it, Merlin looks for  
rescue, but Gwaine’s on his knees, licking his way up the honey-coated thighs of some girl with  
waist-length hair that has the colour and shine of currants. 

“Your friend seems to be enjoying himself with Morgana.”

Spitting the stone into his palm, Merlin swallows. “Gwaine never met a casual encounter with a  
beautiful woman he didn’t like. The honey part is – ” Gwaine reaches the apex of her legs, brushing  
his nose over the seam of her shorts. Her back arches away from the wall; Merlin turns, biting the  
inside of his cheek to keep from imagining himself splayed out for Gwaine’s tongue. “ – new.”

Oh, balls. Now he’s at a Black Forrest orgy with a hard-on.

“Do _you_ like honey?”

Nimueh’s voice tickles his soul. Scratch that. He’s at a Black Forrest orgy with a hard-on and a  
woman with a distinctly predatory expression. 

Trailing down the glass tabletop, Nimueh considers him. “No, you’re not a honey person. Chocolate?” 

Heart doing a Michael Flatley jig in his throat, Merlin shakes his head.

Her long fingers – which for some reason he has equal ease imagining around his throat as his dick  
and _wow_ , that should be disconcerting not arousing, surely – skip over kiwi and pineapple,  
thin custard and cake, and come to rest near a tray of enticing cocktails.

“Ah.” She selects a silky orange concoction in a curvaceous glass with fruit skewered all the way up  
the straw, and holds it out. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

*

Gwaine’s gaze prickling his skin, Merlin mouths over red satin, taste of peaches under his tongue  
and in his head, Nimueh in his veins. He licks over her knee to sample the soft inside of her thigh,  
hitching her dress up as he goes, fabric shushing on the floor beneath the table.

She’s not wearing any knickers, of course.

“More?”

Nimueh dips her fingers into the glass, wipes stickiness and sweetness over his lip, pushing into  
his mouth. Unsure if it’s her or the drink he finds intoxicating, he sucks, seeking Gwaine’s eyes. 

A smirk – multitasked with dripping honey over his chest for Morgana’s eager lips – is all Merlin  
gets before Nimueh tugs on his hair, eyes knowing even as Merlin draws his tongue up over her clit  
and slips his hands under her arse to bring her up to meet his mouth.

*

It’s dawn when they leave. Slinging his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, Gwaine – whiffing of honey and  
sex – lands a sloppy kiss on Merlin’s cheek. “Don’t we always have fun together?”

True, they do. It’s not quite the kind Merlin wants, but perhaps if he keeps not saying no to  
Gwaine, one day they’ll have done everything but each other, and he’ll get to taste the thing he  
really craves.

* * *

20.

Merlin had been hiding in the supply closet, but then Arthur had burst in, too, and was now in _extremely_ close proximity.  
  
“Fuck, just- sorry- I-“ Merlin starts, trying to salvage some sort of semblance of dignity out of this mess, trying to move further back, onto his toes, anywhere. But then Arthur slowly moves his leg _upwards_ and not away like and sane, normal person would do. “Arthur!"  
  
Arthur just palms Merlin’s hip, pulling him forward and into that thrust, making Merlin... _ride_ his fucking thigh like... like...  
  
“I thought you hated me,” he thinks he hears Arthur say. He’s a little busy trying to not lose his sanity. His eyes snap open, not that it does much good, he still can’t see Arthur’s face in the darkness of the supply closet, but he finally takes notice of the hardness pressing against his own leg.  
 _  
_ _Oh.  
_  
“So Gwaine was right,” Arthur murmurs in his ear, and, really, does Arthur expect him to respond? Not when he’s speaking in that low tone, all eloquent vowels and cockiness. Merlin’s hands have actually started to ache from gripping the shelf behind him for so long.  
  
“What?” Merlin manages, turning his face to nudge Arthur’s before swallowing a low groan as he rolled his hips in time with Arthur’s pulling and they end up coming together solidly, rather than the teasing presses Arthur had been making. Arthur bites down just underneath Merlin’s ear, fingers tightening in his hair and his hip, and doesn’t that just make Merlin _whine._ He relinquishes his grip on the shelves and holds onto Arthur’s shoulders, and he can feel the fucking smirk Arthur’s wearing, right against his skin as Arthur kisses down his neck, sucking softly down to his collarbone and back up again.  
  
“Said you’re just as crazy about me as I am about you,” Arthur finally answers. He grips Arthur’s hair and hauls him up to kiss him for that, and Arthur loses his rhythm for a second when Merlin just licks his way into Arthur’s mouth, hot and possessive and _still_ confrontational, and brilliant.  
  
“Wait,” Merlin says, breathless, hands fisted in Arthur’s jacket. Somehow Arthur’s hands had found their way beneath Merlin’s shirt and were spread right across the span of his back, and Arthur _had_ wondered whether he’d be able to do that. Merlin distracted him from that delirious thought by pushing him back a little and wriggling his leg onto the other side of Arthur’s so he was cradling Arthur’s hips with his own, before pulling them flush together again with a sigh.  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur starts, but Merlin kisses him again.  
  
Arthur groans into Merlin’s mouth, regardless of the fact that they’re supposed to be being quiet. He tells himself he can’t be blamed. Especially considering this is Merlin and he always manages to rile Arthur up in some way and he's been waiting _months_.  
  
Suddenly Merlin’s overcome by all of this, even in here, the delicious pressure on his cock through their trousers, the amount of waiting they’ve _both_ done, Arthur’s kisses; it hits him in one wave that sends him silently over the edge, jerking his hips and completely powerless to do anything but hang on and keep kissing Arthur.  
  
"Arthur,” Merlin whispers, and Arthur tucks his head into Merlin’s neck, breath stuttering with each snap of his hips. Merlin undoes Arthur’s trousers, and Arthur sucks a bruise onto Merlin’s skin that’s going to stay for _days_. “Come on, I want- I want you to come.”  
  
He wraps his fingers around Arthur’s cock and Arthur bites down _again_. He moves his hand in time with Arthur’s thrusts, letting his head fall back so Arthur can do as he damn well pleases.  
  
“Want it, Arthur, I want you, come for me,” Merlin mutters. Arthur tenses, still thrusting his hips but not even breathing, nails scratching at Merlin’s back through his shirt and coming all over Merlin’s hand, coating his fingers and slicking his cock even more as Merlin jerks him through it.  
  
He stills and slumps heavily against Merlin, chest heaving.  
  
“Fuck,” Merlin says, grimacing as he sobers.  
  
“Mm, later,” Arthur replies, nosing along Merlin’s jaw. He kisses Merlin again before he can get another word out.  
  
“No, wait, Arthur-“ Merlin manages to say when Arthur pulls away for a breath, because they need to get out of there, but is cut off again, laughing as Arthur bites softly on his lip. “Arthur!”  
  
Arthur just chuckles lightly. Still a prat, then.

* * *

21\. 

It’s a dangerous game, maybe, but Merlin is a little addicted to playing it when the opportunity presents itself. And under the multicoloured, blinking lights at the club, the opportunity has definitely presented itself. 

Arthur’s eyes burn into the back of Merlin’s neck as he leans in to talk to the cute DJ (Gwaine). The gesture looks intimate as Gwaine leans across his booth to talk against his ear and Merlin plays it up, laughing even though he’d barely caught half the words over the rumbling bass. 

He turns a little, looking back over his shoulder until he meets Arthur’s eyes and sips slowly at his drink, knowing that Gwaine is watching him swallow. 

He should feel bad about flirting with other blokes in front of his boyfriend even if it’s harmless. It’s just that Arthur gets so jealous, sparking that fierce possessiveness that makes his fingers dig harder into Merlin’s hips when they fuck and sometimes he’ll tie Merlin to the bed as he makes him beg for it. He always looks wild and uncontrolled as he claims Merlin in every way imaginable and Merlin loves it so much that he just can’t stop poking the beast.

***

“Home,” Arthur says, his breath fanning over Merlin’s neck. “Now.”

The tension in Arthur’s voice is easy to detect even through the music that mixes into the words and Merlin nearly spills the rest of his drink all over himself as his hand starts shaking.

***

They’ve only made it to kitchen when Arthur looms over him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” Arthur says as Merlin strips with the grace of a newborn colt.

Merlin scoffs and grins. “Just shut up and give me your dick, Arthur.”

“No,” Arthur says simply as he draws his t-shirt over his head. 

“No?”

“I know you’re doing this shit on purpose, I’m not an idiot, _Mer_ lin. And maybe you don’t deserve my cock up your arse.”

Merlin is embarrassed by the whine that escapes him, especially since Arthur’s grin widens in satisfaction. He _needs_ to be fucked – he doesn’t want all of his hard work at the club to go unrewarded. 

Stepping forwards, he reaches up to kiss Arthur, but Arthur’s hands grip him and the overwhelming strength that Arthur rarely uses is suddenly very present. Merlin gulps in a mouthful of air as he finds himself pushed down onto the kitchen island, Arthur’s hand pressing down on his back. 

The world seems to still for a moment as Merlin takes two ragged breaths, closing his eyes, and then everything speeds up when he feels the first slap. He jerks forwards at the unexpected sting, dropping his head to rest his cheek against the cold surface. 

His skin prickles and when Arthur’s hand comes down twice more in quick succession he can’t help but push into it even if it hurts. He doesn’t mind. When it hurts Arthur’s always on that edge of losing control and Merlin loves it. The feeling of pain entwines with the pleasure, giving it a strange edge that always makes Merlin slightly delirious. 

Arthur’s hand on his back is a steady and warm pressure that grounds him as the slaps come in unpredictable patterns. Just when he thinks there’s a break there’s another one, harder than the next and the pleasure-pain pulses under his skin. 

He moans brokenly into the countertop, ready to break apart from the need to have Arthur just take him until he can’t even think anymore. 

“Please,” he mutters, his fingers clenching against the surface. “ _Please_ just fuck me.”

The slaps stop and Merlin can feel the hand hovering over him. His muscles twitch in anticipation. 

“No,” Arthur says, his voice low. “I’ll spank you until you remember who you’re with. And maybe if you tell me the right answer, I’ll let you come.”

“Fuck,” Merlin hisses as another smack of the hand makes his skin throb. 

He tries to be stubborn, not giving Arthur what he wants, taking the blows as they come until they build one on top of another and he’s physically shaking with want, pushing shamelessly up into the harsh touch of Arthur’s hand. 

“ _Fu_ -” The word dissolves into a needy moan. “You, it’s always you, I lo-, god, I love you so much, it’s always, always you, I don’t, I... _please_. You.”

Meaningless fragments continue to pour out of him when Arthur finally wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock and his vision goes blurry around the edges.

* * *

22\. 

An overpowering scent hit him the moment he entered the room, so strong that Merlin didn't even notice the flowers set out to mask it. Merlin breathed in deeply, reveling in the primal scent; with a jolt, he came to his senses and whispered a spell to block it. There was a part of him that wanted to undo the spell immediately, but that way lay absolute ruin for him.

"Merlin, I'm--"

Arthur was lying on his bed, naked, and completely flushed. There was a thin layer of sweat on him, probably one of the sources of the scent. Or really, all of Arthur was the source of that delicious smell; a whiff of it would make any alpha in Camelot break down Arthur's doors. Just the thought of it made Merlin's cock stir in his trousers, but he wiped his sweaty hands and took a step forward.

Arthur got off the bed and approached Merlin. He fell to his knees at Merlin’s feet, nuzzled his face against Merlin's breeches, and mouthed at his cock through the fabric. It took all of Merlin's self-control to step away from Arthur.

"Want you in me, Merlin," Arthur whined.

Merlin's hands shook as he placed them on Arthur's shoulders and slowly herded him back to the bed. "You know I-- I can't. I have to--"

He had to get Arthur through this heat, and nothing more. No matter how much he wanted to sink into Arthur and mark him as his own.

Arthur nodded and spread his legs wide, and even without the added effect of Arthur's omega scent, Merlin found himself growing hard. He gulped and sat down next to Arthur, tried to keep his eyes trained on Arthur's face and not his hard cock and wet hole. It didn't help much though, not with Arthur's pupils wide and his mouth slack.

"Hurry," Arthur commanded, his voice a combination of his usual authority and his obvious need. Soon, Merlin thought, he'd have to learn a spell to block out sound as well, because his resolve weakened with every single session.

Arthur's guided Merlin's hands down to his hole, practically forcing his fingers in. Merlin let him; it made Arthur feel like he was still control of the situation, to be the one using Merlin's hands as a tool. The angle was all wrong though, and it was easy to see that Arthur wasn't getting what he needed.

Merlin shifted back a bit, until he was at eye-level with Arthur's cock. His mouth watered, just another one of his body's automatic responses that he wished he could hide. With another deep breath--he wanted to smell Arthur, was so glad he couldn't smell Arthur--he set himself to work, opening Arthur up, pressing his slick fingers deep inside.

Arthur wasn't even trying to hold back his gasps or his cries, and Merlin had his other hand inside his breeches before he realized what he was doing. "Arthur, _please_ , you need to be quieter."

"Can't," Arthur countered, and the next moan seemed to reverberate inside Merlin. He went easily when Arthur forced him lower, until Merlin almost had no choice but to take Arthur's cock into his mouth. Not that it was a hardship.

Merlin moaned when that first taste spread across his tongue, sweeter than anybody else Merlin had ever tasted. Alphas could get drunk on omegas, they said, and Merlin was already feeling the effects. Just being near Arthur made his heart beat faster. He wanted to take his time, to draw this process out for as long as he could. He wanted Arthur filling his senses. He wanted--

Arthur started bucking his hips faster, and Merlin crooked his fingers inside of Arthur, to find that spot he was so intimately familiar with now. The only warning he received before Arthur spilled himself was the sudden tug on his hair.

Merlin swallowed it all, drank in Arthur's taste and wished he could have more.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur whispered, and those were the same words he said every time. 

Merlin nodded and tried to keep his expression neutral. "Of course, Sire."

There would be more sessions like this, kept secret from the rest of the court. Four times a year, Prince Arthur found himself sick and bed-ridden.

Already half-asleep, Arthur murmured, "I'm glad you aren't an alpha."

After all, no alpha would ever be allowed near the crown prince. 

Merlin hoped his smile looked genuine as he said, "Me too."


	2. Group B (with warnings)

23.

Warnings: Excessive flexibility?

Merlin groaned as he laid back against his bed. His body was sheened in sweat as his hand moved up and down over his cock.

He thought about quickening his movements, because he didn't really have that much time, but it had been so long since he'd had a good wank.

Working in a circus had its advantages, but lots of spare time was not one of them. And privacy? That was practically unheard of.

So he was determined to enjoy this.

He groaned and bit his fist when someone banged loudly on the side of his trailer. " _Mer_ lin!"

"Go Away!" He pinched the base of his cock to stave off the rising pressure, and knocked his head back against the pillow in frustration as he recognized the voice of Arthur the lion tamer.

He had just long enough to be grateful that he'd remember to lock the door, when Arthur did a funny little jiggle to the handle, and it swung open.

"Shit!" Merlin quickly flipped over to hide his erection, and glared daggers at Arthur's silhouetted figure.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Uh...stretching?"

Arthur humphed and sat on the side of the bed, his dark eyes raking curiously over Merlin's slender body. Being a contortionist meant that he was particularly _proud_ of his body, and having Arthur outright admire it only made his cock harder beneath him.

"Stretching hmm? Maybe I can help you then."

Arthur didn't hesitate to reach out and run a hand along his back. The touch was feather light as Arthur traced a line upwards, along the ridges of his spine, and then outward to catch his wrists. Arthur gently began to coax Merlin's arms backward, stretching the muscles until his upper body began to rise off the bed, arching his back into a bow that would have been painful for anyone else.

The stretch felt _good_ , combined with the ache that still burned in his groin.

"Now, the other way," Arthur's voice was husky, and Merlin knew then, that Arthur had seen him, that Arthur knew how aroused he was.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to protest when Arthur released his arms gently and grasped one of his ankles. He was insistent as he drew Merlin's leg backward, further and further, putting pressure on his calf until he felt his lower body begin to lift off the bed.

His cock twitched fiercely as some of the pressure was relieved. Arthur chuckled softly, and then gasped when the drop of cum that had dribbled at the dip clung stubbornly to the sheets, stretching across the short distance Arthur's manipulation of his body had created.

"God Merlin," Arthur breathed, and then, "Will you let me try..." He trailed off and released Merlin's legs, and before Merlin could say anything, Arthur rolled him over so that his cock bobbed, desperate, in the air.

"Arthur," Merlin looked up at the man that he'd wanted for so long. Arthur stared at him in return, and he seemed to read the look in Merlin's eyes, because his own softened. "I'm not going to hurt you Merlin. But please, will you do this for me?" He took hold of Merlin's arms again and drew him forward into a kiss, before drawing off and continuing with the stretch until...

Merlin jerked his head up as he understood what Arthur wanted from him.

"It'll be okay," Arthur soothed, and when he pressed further, a gentle unrelenting pressure at the back of his neck, Merlin allowed it.

"Open up," Arthur husked, one hand tracing at the corner of Merlin's mouth. And he did. Merlin opened his mouth, and before he could think about it anymore, swallowed his own cock.

The sensation was... it was odd, and strangely wonderful, and Merlin had always wondered in the back of his mind if he could do this, and now he knew he could...

He gasped, and the vibrations of it sent a shudder singing down his spine in spiraling loops of pleasure.

"That's it Merlin. Suck your own cock. Is it good?"

Merlin looked up through his lashes and watched as Arthur pulled his own cock out and began stroking it desperately. 

And somehow, _he_ was the one that looked debauched, with his dark eyes and his cock sticking obscenely out of his too colorful costume.

And that, _that_ was the last straw, and suddenly he was coming, the bitter fluid shooting into his own throat, surprising him.

* * *

24\. 

Arthur was made to wait three infuriating days before the King of the Dragons summoned him, but instead of being brought to the throne room, the servant led Arthur to his Majesty's private chambers.

Merlin stood beside the desk, his head bowed as he studied a scroll. The servant lingered and said, "If you please, I shall be interpreting --"

"There's no need," Arthur said curtly. "I learned the language of the hands. I understand him _just fine._ "

The servant glanced at Merlin uncertainly, but Merlin waved him away. It wasn't until the door clicked shut that Arthur said, "Can we hasten this along? Is it a yes or a no? I have defenses to plan."

Merlin turned around; Arthur saw the pull of a smirk on those gorgeous lips. Merlin raised his hands and gestured, "You ask for too much."

"An alliance is too much?" Arthur scoffed. "Your people are as much at risk as mine."

"I should bow to your command, and yours alone?" Merlin snorted. "But, I will concede to your terms, if..."

Arthur grasped at slim hope. "If?" 

"If you take me as your advisor. But --" Merlin raised a hand to silence Arthur's ready agreement. "I must be certain that you can listen to me."

"I'll consider --"

" _You'll listen_ \--" Merlin said out loud, his voice dragon-rough and deep. It reverberated in the room with the tease of hot breath on lips, the scratch of claws on skin, the maddening tongue licking between arse cheeks, easing toward his hole. A hot surge of arousal trembled through Arthur's body. "-- _and you'll obey._ "

Sweat beaded on Arthur's brow. His hands clenched into fists. His cock was half-hard in his breeches.

Arthur had heard rumours about the Dragon King's voice. That one would tremble and cower to hear him speak. But nothing prepared him for _this_ suffocating desire to fuck and be fucked.

Merlin raised his brows in surprise. He tilted his head and made a soft purring noise, as if he were inordinately pleased by Arthur's reaction. 

"Interesting," he signed. "I've never had that response before."

"Don't play games --" Arthur warned.

"I'm quite serious. I am content to submit to your rule, but..." Merlin dropped his hands. " _Only if you submit to mine._ "

A frisson ran down Arthur's spine. His cock was full, now, flush and hard, pushing against his underclothes and chainmail.

"F-- Fuck!" Arthur gasped. He walked awkwardly toward the door. He refused to embarrass himself any more.

" _Stay,_ " Merlin said. " _Please._ "

It was the "please" that did it, because Arthur sank against the frame, his forehead against the wood. He used his body to hide the way he palmed and pulled at his cock under the chainmail.

" _Stop. Let me,_ " Merlin said, soft, soothing, rumbling, low.

Arthur resisted, sweat dripping down his spine, but in the end, he put his hands on the wall, his limbs trembling. 

A different kind of shiver tickled his body like snowflakes on a cold winter day, and he was only dimly aware of his armour falling apart, his belt unravelling and all of it clattering to the floor. 

" _Turn around,_ " Merlin said. Arthur did, and found Merlin within reach. " _No._ "

Arthur dropped his hand in frustration. His hips canted toward Merlin; his breeches slipped down his thighs.

" _I want to suck you,_ " Merlin whispered, the grumble in his voice a gentle caress. " _I want to fuck you. I_ will _fuck you. But not today. If you wish to ally, you will obey._ "

Arthur closed his eyes. He tried to mask his moan. The low treble of Merlin's voice drowned his senses until he could only feel that rumble on his skin. His heartbeat thrummed, frantic. His cock ached and twitched for relief.

He reached for his cock again. His hand was swatted away with a word. " _No._ "

Merlin nuzzled Arthur's throat and pushed his thigh between Arthur's legs. There was pressure, but nowhere near enough. He rutted against Merlin.

"Gods. P--please."

" _To my voice alone, Arthur,_ " Merlin whispered. It was a guttural growl that woke every nerve.

Arthur stilled his hips with difficulty.

" _Look at me._ "

Arthur moaned when he saw Merlin's blue eyes ringed with gold, the pupils a reptilian slash.

" _Come for me._ "

The low roar of Merlin's command curled around Arthur's cock as sure as if it were a hand, the vibrations coursing over his skin. He throbbed, trembled, and came.

* * *

25\. 

"Have you ever been kissed?" The older brunette stared him down.

"Of course I have." Gwaine was a little hurt that someone would even question his sexual experience. After all he WAS the go to guy in his school for sexy information.

"I can tell by looking at you that you haven't. And I don't date boys that have never been kissed."

"Then don't date me. Let me show you that I can at least give a kiss."

"Not give one. Get one. And no it won't be from me that you have your first kiss no matter how pretty your hair is." 

Morgana, the queen of St. Mary's Preparatory, would have been a coo if Gwaine could get even a good feel of those amazing tits. Instead the girl had some kind of misguided notion that _Gwaine_ was pure enough to not even have had a kiss.

Laughable.

Gwaine wasn't the kind of guy to take no for an answer. He needed more information, insider information. 

And so as he stood outside of her cousin, Arthur Pendragon's, dorm room. He figured he could discover how to convince the lady fair of his sexual prowess. 

"Kiss me. Yeah. Just like that. Oh God Arthur. So fucking good." 

Or maybe Gwaine should come back later when 'Princess' a.ka. Arthur-Pratly-Pendragon, wasn't entertaining a guest.

"Fuck, Your lips are amazing."

Gwaine stopped in his tracks. How was all that moaning and talking going on(from what sounded like his lab partner Merlin), if Arthur was successfully kissing him within an inch of his life?

Gwaine turned back around to listen in at Pendragon's door. Not that he had to get too close to hear the filthy things loudly rolling out of Merlin's mouth.

"So Good, Yeah you like licking me open. Oh god. Your tongue. More. Fuck me with it. Yeah. Shit."

Every word a heavily panted syllable, a grunt of movement like Merlin was being fucked apart and yet almost no sounds from Arthur.

Gwaine wanted to know what they were doing. His mother was a nurse and thus Gwaine had plenty of sexual knowledge on how things went between men and women complete with diagrams. His education on what boys did was a little lacking. Especially if Arthur was kissing Merlin open?

Oh. Ooooah.

Well that was a kiss he had never been 'given'. Was that what Morgana meant? That no one had touched or licked him...there? 

Gwaine's face flushed and his cock grew hard almost instantly. Listening in on Merlin and Arthur hadn't been the main reason, even though they made a perfectly viable porn soundtrack. It was the image of someone doing that to him, gnawing him open with their lips and tongue, nipping at him lightly with teeth.

Gwaine shivered.

He wanted to see what it looked like. A brief glance to confirm the image in his head, and maybe spank to before finding someone to give him a good long 'kiss'.

He cracked open the door. (had they been in such a rush as to not even lock it?) 

Dirty slurping snuffling sounds of Arthur's desperation to eat more of Merlin's hole made Gwaine shake with ideas about his own pleasure. Gwaine wanted a face buried deep enough to only breath him in.

"Fuck yes, Arthur." 

The image was nothing like the one in Gwaine's mind. Through the sliver of light escaping Arthur's door, Merlin circled his hips, rubbed his fingers over his nipples and hummed out his content. He was sitting up, butt firmly smashed down into Pendragon's working jawline.

Gwaine fought back a moan looking at two cocks full and bouncing to every contraction of Merlin's thighs around Arthur's head.

Merlin's eyes met Gwaine's, and after only a short gasp of acknowledgement, he stroke his cock above Arthur's throat and chest.

Gwaine rubbed himself as he imagined riding Morgana's lips as he came all over those perfect tits. Then licking up every drop just like Merlin would no doubt do.

His knees buckled, his grip on the door frame tightened, and his eyes blurred back to the reality of Merlin thrusting into his fist and splattering every last drop like a trail from Arthur's belly to his lips.

"Fuck" Gwaine cursed in his mind as he came unashamed and now highly motivated in his pants.

He needed a kissed.

* * *

26\. 

Until I'll be whole again 

"Father! Please!" Arthur was not above begging, not this time.

"No." Uther's voice is cold and dark, his face a mask of fury. "The traitorous boy has shown his true nature and he will be executed at dawn."

&&&  
Arthur paced the length of his room as he waited.

"You sent for me sire?" Leon's voice was calm, his tone and face not betraying the anxiety he felt, but Arthur knew better.

"We are going to save him."

Leon's face split in a grin and he nodded. "I knew it sire, the men are ready."

Arthur smirked, his knights loyalty was just that, his.

&&&  
Merlin shrunk back in his cell as he heard footsteps descending down the steps, his face brightened when he recognized the mop of blond hair that appeared.

"Arthur!" Merlin called brightly and rushed over to the bars. "I, I didn't think you'd come, I was sure your father-" 

"He tried, he should have known better." Arthur growled when Leon appeared with the keys.

Merlin was baffled. "Arthur? What are you-"

"Getting you out of course, my future court sorcerer can't die at the stake at dawn, obviously." Arthur said with a smirk while Merlin stared at him open mouthed. "Now come on, we don't have much time."

&&&  
Arthur's hand gripped Merlin's as tightly as he could while they made their way out of the city.

"Go back to the cathedral Leon and make sure no one has noticed we are missing yet."

"Yes sire." Leon said and turned to leave before turning back and clasping Merlin's forearm. "Take care Merlin." He whispered before he turned around and left.

"Right, let's go." Arthur tugged Merlin's hand and they left the city, heading towards the forest.

"Come on Merlin keep up!" Arthur whispered urgently, he had no idea how long it will take for his father's men to realize he was gone from his rooms and to alert his father, Merlin had to be away from Camelot as could be.

"Arthur, Arthur stop," Merlin whizzed. "We are already in the woods; I can handle it from here."

"No you can't," Arthur snarled and his hand tightened on Merlin's. "You can't do anything right."

"Excuse me?!" Merlin exclaimed. "You are alive aren't you? Meaning I can do something right!"

Arthur whirled around and slammed Merlin against a tree. "You got caught and sentenced to death!" He yelled in Merlin's face. "How does that count as doing something right?!"

Merlin swallowed and looked away.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's chin and turned his face so he would look at him.

"Promise me you will stay safe Merlin," Arthur whispered, his grip on Merlin's bicep tightening. "Promise me you'll stay safe until I can come and bring you back."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Arthur I-" 

Arthur growled and claimed Merlin's mouth in a bruising kiss, they didn't have much time as it were and he couldn't stand letting Merlin go without him knowing…

"How long?" Merlin whispered after they broke apart.

"Since the first time I saw you, I just wanted to grab you and never let you leave my room," Arthur's hands tore Merlin's neckerchief away and his lips pressed tiny kisses to that long, pale neck. "Never leave my bed." He added and Merlin moaned when he sucked on his pulse point, worrying the skin and biting as hard as he could, the need to leave his mark on Merlin, a remainder for him was overwhelming.

"Arthur, Arthur," Merlin whimpered and Arthur's hands loosened their breeches, pushing the offending fabric down to their ankles.

"Oh gods Merlin," Arthur panted against the magnificent dark bruise he created on Merlin's neck. "This isn't how I wanted to do this," He said as his hand wrapped around their slick erections. "I wanted to make love to you in my bed, our bed, caress that gorgeous body of your all night, and have you screaming my name until you can't speak." Arthur's hand sped up and Merlin writhed in his arms.

"We will, I swear Arthur we will."

"You promise?" Arthur gasped when he felt Merlin's hot essence between them.

"I do."

"I love you." Arthur whispered into Merlin's mouth and sealed it with another kiss.

&&&

The dawn was fast approaching and Arthur knew he had to leave but…

"Go." Merlin said as he pushed Arthur gently.

"You'll be back." Arthur said and pulled Merlin in for another kiss.

"I will, I swear."

Arthur watched as he disappeared among the woods, taking his heart with him.

Someday, he vowed, someday he will be whole again.

* * *

27.

“I’m ready,” Arthur announces, lying on his stomach. “Get on with it.”

“You could be a little more gracious. This _is_ for your protection.”

Arthur scoffs. “I’m indulging this silliness, Merlin. That’s plenty gracious.”

He can almost hear Merlin’s eyeroll, as a creaky dip in the bed heralds him clambering up. A silent moment stretches just long enough for Arthur to feel extremely exposed, struggling to remember why he’d agreed to this.

Merlin’s hands are steady and warm when they finally touch his shoulder. It’s like a rub-down after a tourney, in that they’re familiarly rough and bony, but also not, in that they’re not pummeling him senseless. Instead, they etch Arthur’s skin like they’re quills and he’s parchment.

Arthur’s eyes sliver open. He can make light of it now, but he’ll never stop being curious about magic, especially Merlin’s, hidden in plain sight all those years. His eyes chase Merlin’s fingertips, and Arthur will _never_ be used to this, never _not_ shiver at the unpredictable thrill of the supernatural, never _not_ be awed by the power Merlin possesses, though he’d sooner eat rats than tell how it fascinates him.

Merlin concentrates on his hands as they skate over Arthur’s bicep and forearm. He draws glowing symbols and mouths words Arthur doesn’t recognise, and the prickling on his skin turns into piercing heat as the magic seeps bone-deep, flooding his very blood. Feverish ribbons wend through his veins and Arthur gasps at the intimate intrusion, and at the guttural sounds falling from Merlin’s mouth. Which...was it _always_ so pink?

_Oh God._

Arthur feels like an intruder in his own skin. He's suddenly parched, but he can’t interrupt, doesn’t ever want Merlin to stop speaking with that mystic intent.

Thickening against the bed, Arthur silently endures Merlin scratching incantations over his arms and legs. He feels frayed, loose and tight and hot and cold, and when Merlin’s fingertips glance the crease high on his thighs, he shudders, unable to stop himself from bucking, feeling every heartbeat in the throb of his cock trapped beneath.

Merlin hums and Arthur could just die from embarrassment, but the scribing doesn’t stop. Merlin’s fingers still dance over his shoulders, neck, and the dip of his spine. He drags gold letters into the dimples at the small of Arthur’s back, skims over his tailbone only to come back to it again and again, and gently topple into the cleft between.

Arthur’s mouth falls open, lungs scraped of breath.

For a moment, he thinks Merlin knows he’s gone too far, but _of course_ not, because it’s _Merlin_. Instead of mortification, Arthur gets Merlin’s knees between his own, and then he’s nudged open, Merlin a sleek wedge between Arthur’s legs, easing them apart with inexorable will.

Arthur should put a stop to this, but Merlin’s words glint like shaved metal from his mouth, and then he’s hoarsely muttering spells against the inside of Arthur’s thigh, sending hot breath over flesh so sensitised, Arthur thinks he’s going to burst into flames if Merlin doesn’t do something, _anything_ \--

Merlin’s hand skirts up Arthur’s back, then pivots at the wrist to slide fingers-first down his arse, and Arthur can’t help it, he bucks into the bed, collecting Merlin’s splayed fingers around his balls, and his thumb over his hole on the upstroke.

There’s a surprised, deep groan, which Arthur realises is his because Merlin’s still chanting, ribbons of words curling around Arthur’s sac and the base of his cock, along with hot fingers.

The shock of Merlin’s tongue sends Arthur’s insides into a hot clench and his knees slide out. He sucks shallow breaths as Merlin eats him, burrowing his face into Arthur’s flesh, digging in with fingers and tongue, kissing and whispering, making waves of heat burst through the lattice of Arthur’s ribs. And _oh God_ , Arthur has experienced the steady unfurling of a climax at his own convenient touch or that of whores, but this is _nothing_ like that, this relentless pleasure wrenched from deep in his gut where Merlin’s magic makes everything hotter and brighter and golden. 

Merlin’s mouth is all over him, sucking and kissing and wetly licking, and _fuck_ , Merlin _loves it_ , Arthur can feel him groaning against the base of his cock as he curls his tongue around it. He fingers, spreads and probes until Arthur’s coming, fucking himself to pieces into crushed coverlets.

It takes forever to breathe again.

Merlin’s a dead weight, face mashed into Arthur’s thigh.

“I will _graciously_ not kill you for this transgression.” Probably should have waited until the panting was under control to speak. “And stop smirking.”

* * *

28.

Merlin thinks briefly about clothes, but doesn’t see the point. His mind is taken with the logic of the small hours: he’s woken up alone, and he doesn’t want to be alone. He’s woken up hard, and he wants to do something about it.

And Sir Gwaine’s quarters are not so far, and Court Sorcerer Merlin is not so easily spotted these days by anyone he does not care to see him. He is a shadow in the corridor, fast and fleeting, and he slips into Gwaine’s room without a sound. With the door closed behind him, Merlin pauses to admire the view: Gwaine lying on his back, one crisp linen sheet pulled up to his waist, his chest bare, his hair in disarray.

Merlin climbs onto the bed, knees on either side of Gwaine’s. As the mattress dips, Gwaine stirs, but makes no effort to sit up, just smiles, slow and wide. Merlin crawls up his body, supporting himself on his elbows, pressing their bodies flush together while he looks down into Gwaine’s eyes. “Hello,” he says.

“And yourself,” Gwaine says, before pushing up to meet Merlin’s mouth, slipping his tongue straight in, no preamble. This is something Merlin loves, the way the dead hours of morning take the edge off thought, leave instinct naked and gleaming in the moonlight instead.

Gwaine’s muscled chest feels fantastic against his own, and Merlin works a hand in between their bodies to enjoy it all the better, skimming over planes and valleys, ending with a soft flick to Gwaine’s nipple that makes the man’s hips jerk. Merlin bears down instinctively with his own hips while he chases that success, framing Gwaine's nipple with two fingers and rolling back and forth. He’s slow and insistent with it, and Gwaine growls before thrusting his tongue deeper into Merlin’s mouth.

Gwaine is every bit as naked under the sheet as Merlin is above it; Merlin learned by his example, after all, to prefer nothing but cool linen on his skin on a summer night, to chafe at the restriction of trousers or tunic. Abandoning Gwaine’s chest for now, Merlin runs his hand down Gwaine's side, coming to rest on the warm jut of his hip. He could pull the sheet out of the way and feel more of Gwaine's warmth, let the heat of his cock rest deliciously heavy against his own, and he will, but not yet. The extra layer of friction is nice, both for what it is and for the promise it offers of more good things to come.

He drags his hips up, and back, and Gwaine matches him eagerly, the tip of his cock jutting hard into Merlin's stomach. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Gwaine asks hoarsely, voice thick with sleep and want. "Was it a dream that woke you?"

"It was," Merlin says into the skin of Gwaine's neck, before angling up to pull at Gwaine's earlobe.

"Well," Gwaine says, "I very much hope I was in it."

“Let me think,” Merlin says, humming a bit. “Do you have the most relentless mouth I know? I think you may.”

“Let’s find out,” Gwaine says, flipping them over so that Merlin’s the one on his back, kicking the bed linen away in the process; Merlin sucks in a breath at the first bare touch of their cocks together, and Gwaine grins, teeth flashing the moonlight. He pauses to wrap his hand around them both together, and jerk them three slow, steady times before letting go and sliding his way down Merlin’s body. “Tell me if it gets too much, now,” he says, just before closing his mouth over Merlin’s cock and flattening his tongue to the slit.

“Never fear,” Merlin says, gasping a little already. And there’s another benefit to the powers of a Court Sorcerer: whether Gwaine makes him shout or sob, whether he whimpers or whispers quiet things, loving things, no-one will hear outside this room.

Gwaine _is_ relentless, mouth and mind and spirit, and Merlin has never felt quite so free.

* * *

29.

Warnings: underage, references to past character deaths, dub-con.

As heroic deeds go, saving the world is a pretty crap deal. Nobody ever talks about the part where you die, cold and alone, long after the love of your life has shuffled off his mortal coil as part of your epic world-saving quest. Either that, or you die first, not knowing when or if you will ever meet again. Almost easier, if you could simply lie down and let the end take you together.

 _No,_ he told you the last time, when you put forward the thought. _I know you better than that. You could never leave your people to suffer for one man._

But he's wrong. You would have given up everything for him, every time, but for his simple faith in your nobility that you dare not break.

And the thing about second and third and fourth chances - what people these days call reincarnation - they never work out. If you couldn't get it right the first time, without the tangle of history and expectations confusing issues all around, what are the odds that you'll figure out your happy ending, or that any ending would stay happy and not get fucked up next time round?

There is a light rap on the door; only perfunctory - Merlin comes straight in without waiting for a response, which you suppose is an improvement on the first life, when he used to slam the door open and yank the curtains apart to wake you.

"Is it time to wake already?" you ask, even though the horizon is still dark, and the moon is yet high in the night sky.

Merlin pads quietly across the room on bare feet, climbing onto your bed and tucking his slight frame into your side, his face turned trustingly into your shoulder. It is years and lifetimes of custom and loneliness that draws your arm about his shoulders to pull him closer. He sighs, breathes soft heat into your neck, and the warm press of his body spreads reflexive tingling all through your body, down to your fingers and toes with keen awareness of his proximity.

"What is it, have you remembered something?" you ask gruffly, raising one knee to try to hide your body's natural response to his, even despite his current appearance - too young, _far too young_ , barely half your age and you not yet thirty - how did you and he end up born so far apart, with so little time together before it came to this again? Another doomed ride round the wheel of fortune -

You've missed something important while railing at destiny, because Merlin is smiling sad and sweet, and leaning up to kiss the corner of your mouth; chastely, you think until he rises to his knees and straddles you with grim determination, and your breath stops.

Your hands are on his narrow hips, frozen in shock as he licks past your chapped lips into your mouth familiarly, grinds his small bottom perfectly into your hard cock just the way he used to, and it takes you a shamefully long time to stop sucking desperately at his tongue and push him away when all your mind is filled with images of pressing him into the bed, his slim wrists pinned over his head, and _devouring_ that pale skin and the small tight nipples, sucking at the delicate young flesh between his legs - you push him away, gasping like a drowning man, "Merlin, stop! We can't."

"Arthur, I remember," he says, shaking, eyes bright and wet. "I remember, and tomorrow... please. Let me - " He lunges for your mouth again, and he tastes of salt and blood and thwarted love, and because you could never deny him, you kiss him, his mouth, his eyes and temples while he chokes back silent tears and clutches at you like a child heartbroken.

Sometime before daybreak, he lets himself be soothed. You let him jerk you off with an uncertain grip, let him rub himself off on you, and whisper into his ears, "Next time - next time, we'll let the future hang, and we'll lie together under the old oak tree, or a younger one if that one isn't there anymore, and we'll be kings of the present. Next time."

"Next time," he agrees, lying quiescent in your arms as light stains the horizon. "This time, we kick destiny's arse and make our own future."

And you think, maybe you will. Together.

* * *

30.

Morgana slips the harness on over her panties. It feels better if she’s bare underneath, giving Gwaine access to her cunt, but she’s planning on going for a while, and the harness chafes like a motherfucker if she’s bare. 

She fastens the dildo in, and it ceases to be just another dildo and becomes her dick. Her very own. She looks in the mirror, giving a little shake of her hips to watch it wiggle. That shit will NEVER get old. 

Gwaine’s naked and standing at the foot of the bed, just like she had told him. She hits the bathroom light on her way out and crosses to him. “Hi,” she smiles, pushing up on her toes for a kiss. Gwaine moans, twitching, and that can’t be from just a kiss. She looks down, to where her the silicone head of her cock is brushing the underside of his. She can’t hold the position for much longer, and when she drops to flat feet again, Gwaine’s hips twitch at the loss. 

Morgana abandons her previous plan. “Lie back, darling.” She crowds up against him, moving forward as he moves back, barely giving him time to settle flat before she’s straddling his hips, their cocks brushing together. Gwaine’s breath hitches, hips moving up to catch the friction again. 

“You’re so wound,” She murmurs, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, imagining me spreading you open and fucking you silly.” 

Morgana shifts, putting her weight in her knees to reach down with her other hand to hold both their cocks together. “How long has it been?”

Gwaine doesn’t answer, and Morgana pulls on the handful of hair in her hand, yanking his head back to expose his neck. She bites at his throat, sharp teeth scraping against warm skin. “Answer me, Gwaine. How long has it been since you’ve come?”

“Four- ngh, five days.” Gwaine answers. 

“Good,” She soothes the bites with her tongue, letting up on his hair. “Do you think you’ve earned the chance today?” 

“Yes!” Gwaine answers, too quick. “Yes, please.”

Morgana chuckles, bending to kiss him. “Okay, you’ll get it, then. But first,” She trails off, shuffling forward towards Gwaine’s head. She braces on the headboard, knees on either side of his head. “Suck,” she commands, grabbing another handful of his hair and tugging his mouth to her cock. 

He goes, eagerly sucking her cock down as far as he can. Gwaine’s mouth looks sinful, plump lips flushed, tight around the head of her cock. He makes a big show of it, pulling off slowly to lick at the shaft and head. 

“You look so good like that, gorgeous.” Morgana moans. Even if she can’t feel it, she’s still getting off on the show, the sight of her man sucking cock. 

They had double teamed Merlin once, the first time she had ever watched him suck dick. He had looked so content on his knees in front of Merlin, and Morgana abandoned her original plan of having them both penetrate her to grab him by the hair and force him further down Merlin’s cock. 

His damn hair and the way he’s always making her change her plans. He’s going to be the death of her one day. 

Like now, he abandons her cock to wiggle down in between her legs. He licks at her through the panties, sucking where she’s soaked them through. She immediately regrets not taking them off. 

Desperate, she reaches in between them to pull the crotch of her panties aside. It’s tough, the cloth wet and the straps of the harness tight, but she gets them aside and Gwaine plunges back in, licking and sucking at her clit. His breath is hot against her, little huffs of muffled moan against her wetness, and she rocks into his mouth. 

“Yeah, fuck,” Morgana moans, stilling as she comes her clit pulsing between his lips and pussy drenching his chin.

* * *

31.

“You, my dear girl,” Morgana intoned, flicking cigarette ash onto the ground next to her chair, “need to get someone to take care of that for you.” Then she smiled, and it was almost feral. “Or I can, if you like.”

Gwen laughed, and shook her head. “I know you get points for every girl you convert, but we know how this goes.”

“Yes, yes, tragically, we do.” She looked at Gwen fondly. “But the offer still stands, you know.” She waved her fag around meaningfully. “Should you need it.”

Gwen smiled as well, just as fondly. “I know.”

*

The first one was too hard.

“Gwaine,” she panted, “Gwaine, stop.”

And he looked up at her, from where he was between her thighs, and she suddenly felt incredibly naked, even though she’d been without clothes for nigh on twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of him rooting around like a forest creature, him having fingernails far too scratchy, him seeming to think that if he pressed _harder_ , things would work better.

She sighed, tried to smile. “Come on up here, now,” she said. And he was only too happy to oblige.

*

The second one was too soft.

“Lance,” she said, cajolingly, “Lance, come on.”

And he looked up at her, from where he was between her thighs, and she suddenly felt incredibly sad, even though they’d had a great evening and he was so very _earnest_. Earnest as he kissed every bit of her skin in equal measure for what seemed like a very long time, earnest as he lapped at her folds in slow careful licks, as if she were hiding a light socket or a flagpole, earnest as his fingers grazed around her entrance but never ventured in. 

She sighed, and smiled, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Come on up here, then,” she said. And he smiled, and loved her, and was only too happy to oblige.

*

The third one, though. The third one was _just right_.

“Arthur—Oh holy _fuck_ , Arthur, don’t fucking stop—” She clapped a hand over her mouth, not believing she’d just let slip something so porno-sounding. She felt a sound rumble into her skin and looked down.

But he only looked up at her for a moment, from where he was between her thighs. He had a glint in his eyes, and a slight furrow of concentration between his brows, as he focused on the task at hand. And she suddenly felt light as air, because _this_ — this was right. His strong, blunt fingers inside of her, pressing exactly in the right place as if made for it, were right; his clever tongue one moment flat and sweet against her inner sex then sharp and lovely against her clit, was oh so right; and his clear arousal, the flush of his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes and the noises he made against her skin, was most right of all.

“You,” she said, tucking her fingers into his hair and holding on tight, “can stay right down there.”

*

Morgana took one look at her and threw her head back and laughed. Gwen felt her cheeks pink, but couldn’t help the grin on her face. “Well, good to know my brother isn’t entirely useless.”

Gwen laughed a little herself. “He apologises; he knew you wanted those points.”

“Yes, tell him he owes me.” She looked at Gwen, reconsidering. “No, on second thought. Tell him he owes _you_. For a lifetime.”

Gwen’s cheeks pinked further, but she smiled, thinking fondly of morning sunlight and toast in bed. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

* * *

32\. 

“You know,” Merlin huffed as he maneuvered Arthur through the door of their flat, “if you weren’t so competitive you wouldn’t have been injured.”

Arthur grunted. He leaned heavily on Merlin, his arm draped across Merlin’s shoulders as he limped, his footie kit soaked with sweat, his leg twitching in pain. He knew for certain he had strained a muscle on that last play and it was a painful spasm each time he took a step. 

“This from the man that sprained his thumb playing a video game,” Arthur ground out through clenched teeth. 

“That,” Merlin answered seriously, “was a matter of honour. This was pick-up game with our mates.”

Arthur let out another grunt and it had Merlin looking up at him concerned. 

“Do I need to take you to the A&E?”

“No,” Arthur sighed. “It’s only a strain.”

Five excruciating minutes later, Arthur was sat on the edge of their bed, shirt on the floor and Merlin kneeling between his legs slipping off Arthur’s shoes and socks.

“Show me where it hurts,” Merlin said.

Arthur pointed to the back of his right thigh where the muscle burned and jumped beneath the skin.

“Flip over,” Merlin said with a small push to Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur did as he was told, laid on his stomach amidst the pillows and sheets, relaxing into them as he felt the bed dip where Merlin settled next to him. Merlin’s hands were warm as they traced over the sensitive skin of Arthur’s leg, raising goosebumps in their wake and Arthur shivered. 

Merlin hummed as the pressure increased and then his strong fingers were massaging hard into the muscle.

Arthur let out a moan and he shuddered, cock growing hard at the intense pleasure-pain as Merlin dug his fingers in, worked out the knots, fingers splayed warm and intimate on Arthur’s skin. 

He hit a particularly painful spot and Arthur jerked forward, hips pistoning into the mattress, cock finding fiction in the bed beneath him. 

“Fuck!” Arthur yelled.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Merlin said, wincing, pulling his hands away. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” Arthur hissed.

There was a moment when Merlin didn’t move but then Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers tentatively sliding up the inside of his thigh. 

“You getting off on this?” he asked, voice low.

Arthur swallowed, pushed his hips down meaningfully. 

“Fuck! You are! That’s brilliant!”

Then Merlin’s hands were in the waistband of Arthur’s shorts and pulling them and his pants off. Arthur’s cock springs free and he sighed at the feeling of the cool sheets beneath him and Merlin’s hot hands back on his leg. 

Merlin massaged Arthur’s arse, pulled his cheeks apart, thumb running teasingly over Arthur’s hole, pushing on the ring of muscle. Arthur bucked and Merlin placed his palm on the small of Arthur’s back, calming him. 

“Let me make you feel good,” Merlin whispered. “Relax.”

Arthur let out a shaky breath, allowed the tension to seep out of him and certainly did not yelp when he felt Merlin’s tongue lick across his entrance. Merlin let out a chuckle and then dove in, tongue laving over Arthur’s hole. 

“Fuck!” Arthur whimpered at the feel of Merlin’s tongue, sloppy with spit, fucking into him. 

Arthur rutted, shamelessly, hips pushing hard into the bed, sweat dripping down his spine as Merlin ate him out, sucked and licked like Arthur was a feast. 

He was so close, so very close, balls drawn up tight, toes curled, his leg a distant ache. He reached down, gripped his leaking cock, pulled relentlessly just as Merlin slid two fingers in him. 

He came with a shout, back arched, pleasure cresting over him in a wave before collapsing in the wet spot. 

He felt Merlin climb over him, straddle him, Merlin’s jeans a soft scrape on Arthur’s overheated skin. He heard the telltale sounds of Merlin stroking himself, jerking off furiously while he moaned Arthur’s name and filthy endearments about how Arthur tasted, how he looked as Merlin fucked him with his tongue. 

Merlin came with a groan and Arthur felt the hot splash of come on his back mixing with the sweat gathered there. 

Merlin fell next to him on the bed, smiling as he shucked off his jeans, petting Arthur’s sweat-soaked hair. 

“How do you feel?” Merlin asked, using the edge of the sheet to clean them up. 

Arthur smiled, blissed out. “Better,” he answered. “Not cured though. I think I’ll need another massage in a few hours.”

Merlin smiled. “That can be arranged.”

* * *

33\. 

"I admit I wasn't expecting this," Merlin says. He splays his hand across the metal of the belt. His fingertips skim and scorch the skin just above it.

Arthur tries to control his breathing, tries not to feel so horrifically disappointed. He knew this moment had to come, had, stupidly, put it off, so it's hardly a surprise. There's nothing he can do about it now. 

He tries to pull away, but Merlin only hooks his fingers into the chastity belt and kisses him again, on the jaw. His eyelashes sweep along Arthur's cheek and Merlin's voice is close to his ear when he says, "I was looking forward to being fucked, too," almost philosophically, and Arthur's throat goes entirely dry. 

He licks his lips, watching Merlin's kissed-pink ones. "We could, we could make do."

"Really?" Merlin asks. He sounds genuinely curious, and before Arthur can protest has his hands all over the belt, reaching _back_. "Your father is definitely thorough," he finally says, looking put out. He brings his hands back up, now smoothing them across Arthur's nipples in a fond, nearly absent-minded way. Arthur leans into it, though it's hardly helping matters, and almost misses Merlin saying, "So it's not as though I can fuck you, either."

Arthur swallows. He'd not even let himself consider that.

Merlin must see him flushing. "You like that," he says, sounding pleased.

"It's pointless. George has the keys," he says. The face Merlin makes is hilarious, and, all right, almost horribly endearing. 

"Let's never talk about George while we, well. You and he have never--"

"Merlin! He's in charge of my chastity, he'd hardly compromise it himself, would he?" 

"I would," Merlin says hotly, and Arthur kisses him one more time on the lips, hard, and slips to his knees. 

"Anyway. I actually meant something more like this." He palms Merlin through his trousers. 

"Oh," Merlin says. "You don't have to..." He's already hard where Arthur cups him, strokes him through the fabric.

He leans forward just to breathe him in, mouth almost watering. "I want, I need to. Let me," he says, trying not to make it sound like a plea.

Merlin almost whimpers when Arthur opens his trousers and slides one hand around his red, curving cock.

He's never done this before and the skin there is surprisingly soft, a little bitter as Arthur sucks at it experimentally. Merlin swears above him. "I'm going to have you, later," he promises.

Arthur pulls off, earning a pleasing little whine from Merlin. "You have me now."

Merlin curves a hand around Arthur's nape. Arthur has to look down again and take Merlin's cock in quickly, because he doesn't have a response for the look that Merlin gives him then, one that leaves him feeling strangely raw, more vulnerable than he should even on his knees like this.

Merlin tightens his other hand in Arthur's hair, pulling him forward gently until his cock is pressing at the back of Arthur's throat. "I mean it, though. You'll love it, I think. There's nothing like it, having someone _inside_ you."

Merlin's cock stretches Arthur's jaw to its limit, until he's having trouble breathing around it. He pushes farther, needing more, because it's all he can get.

"I'd open you up with my fingers first." Merlin rocks forward, then back, until Arthur is chasing after him with his mouth and swallowing him down again. "Until you think you can't take anymore--that's when I'd fuck you, I'd fill you up, and you _would,/i > take it, wouldn't you? For me?"_

Arthur nods desperately around his cock, moaning, swirling his tongue around the head to make Merlin moan, too.

"God, I'd love to see you just like that, taking it all. Maybe I'd use my fingers again, too. Not the first time--but you're so good, you'd be able to soon enough. You'd need more after a while, and I'd push them in along with my cock. I've done it before, it feels amazing." He grazes his thumb along the edge of Arthur's lips where they're stretched around Merlin's cock, then slides it in, and Arthur can see it--see Merlin riding someone's cock, their fingers, loving every moment of it, sees _himself_ writhing as Merlin fucks him and he's never been so hard in his life, his own dick pressing up against the metal, so torturous it's almost a relief.

He takes Merlin in as far as he can, till it feels he's almost halfway down Arthur's throat and Arthur will never breathe again he's so full of Merlin, swallowing around him best he can as Merlin fucks forward, once, twice, and then is coming down his throat, and Arthur takes it, takes it all.

-

"Odd," Uther says, "But yes, he quit in an awful hurry. I suppose your manservant can take the job, though?" and drops the keys into Merlin's hand. 

"It would be an honor, sire," Merlin says, bowing with a grin that only Arthur can see.

* * *

34.

He looks at Merlin stretched out on his bed, body only half covered by twisted sheets that leave vast tracts of pale skin to be dappled by the faint light coming in their willow. Fancifully, Arthur likes to believe it's moonlight, but he knows it's really only light cast by the old yellow streetlamp outside his bedroom window.

When Merlin had said, “yes, Arthur, of course I'll check in on your flat every now and then while you're away to make sure the plants haven't died and no one has burgled your telly,” he obviously meant something else entirely. The state of Arthur's flat shows that Merlin has more or less been living there. 

Nothing is, strictly speaking, dirty – Merlin is tidier than that- but things are still a mess in a way that speaks of someone living alone. There are a few plates on the table from dinner, likely left there because Merlin didn't think anyone would ever know if he left the washing up for the next morning and trundled off to bed instead. He's left his underwear on the floor, probably for the same reason, and Arthur can't help but smile more fondly when he notes they're the stupid reindeer ones he bought Merlin last Christmas.

He shifts his heavy bag off his shoulder, crouching a little as he eases it to the floor with no more than a rustle of nylon against carpet. His jacket buttons are easy to undo without a sound; thank goodness he isn't wearing something with a zip. Shirt followed by trousers followed by underwear and Arthur has stripped bare without a sound.

He eases onto the bed slowly, trying to distribute his weight so as not to make the mattress shift too much or too suddenly and still Merlin sleeps, utterly oblivious.

Merlin is turned away from him so Arthur takes a moment to appreciate the beautiful curve of his shoulder and with his eyes follow it up along his neck to the place just below his ear where Arthur then leans forward to press his lips. He half expects Merlin's eyes to snap open in surprise, but all Merlin does is shift slightly and murmur the question of Arthur's name on an exhale.

Arthur doesn't say anything, but he trails the pads of his fingers down the path of Merlin's spine, relishing the feel of soft skin he's not seen or felt for months. Merlin arches ever so slightly into the touch and the small portion of his lips that Arthur can see from this angle twitches in a smile.

“You're home early,” Merlin mumbles like he's still half asleep.

“Mmm,” Arthur hums in reply and presses lips to Merlin's shoulder as his fingers trail lower. Merlin squirms slightly, though he doesn't try to get away and just when Arthur thinks about hesitating, Merlin laughs. Arthur thinks it's possibly the best sound he's heard in weeks, so he listens for a moment, drinking in the rich sound of Merlin's voice, sleepy-heavy but happy and warm.

Then Arthur teases his fingertip against Merlin's entrance and the sound of Merlin's laugh is cut off with a lovely hitch of breath and the hint of a whine.

“Great way to wake up,” Merlin says, breathless, as Arthur slides two slow, careful fingers into him. He's tight, but one of the lovely things about Merlin is how his body always accommodates Arthur so easily, like it loves him. It's likely the result of practice – Merlin in no way lacks practice- but Arthur likes to imagine it's just for him.

“You're giving me that look,” Merlin says, twisting his body around so he can see Arthur without losing the fingers inside him.

“What look?”

“The one that says you're thinking all these romantic, poetic things instead of saying them.”

Arthur smiles, a slow curl of amusement as he leans in to kiss Merlin properly on the mouth. There are always so many things Arthur wishes he could say to Merlin, but he's afraid that when the times comes he'll stumble, that he'll fail to articulate just what Merlin means to him.

So he covers Merlin with his body, bats away Merlin's hand when he tries to wrap lovely long fingers around Arthur's cock, and teases Merlin open until Merlin is gasping and shivering and covered in his own come and still Arthur doesn't stop for a long while. 

Somewhere along the way, Merlin smiles at him like he understands, and Arthur likes to believe that he does without Arthur ever really having to tell him.

* * *

35\. 

Arthur knows the curves of the half dozen winding country roads by heart. He’s memorised the address, knows to bypass the modest house in need of repair and instead make his way to the back garden and into the greenhouse to drop off his delivery.

“Pendragon’s Parcels,” Arthur calls out, formal as ever. Merlin is at the worktable, as always, working on his precious roses. 

“Arthur!” Merlin says, making his way toward him. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

Those words shouldn’t make Arthur’s heart rate speed up after all this time, but it does. He hands over the package politely. 

Merlin’s eyes light up. “Oh, it’s finally here!” He scribbles his signature on Arthur’s clipboard and eagerly but carefully opens the package. It isn’t company policy to be so intrusive after the delivery has been made, but Merlin’s enthusiasm is infectious. Arthur takes a peek. Inside are a dozen vibrant red rose cuttings. Merlin caresses the petals lovingly. 

Arthur clears his throat. “If that’s all then.”

Merlin looks up at him. “I’m trying to crossbreed a new type of rose,” he explains. “Freya is wonderful to send me the other parent stock I needed.”

“Oh?” Arthur asks, affecting an air of nonchalance. He leans over to inspect one of Merlin’s prized golden roses on the worktable. “Your girlfriend?”

“No,” Merlin says lightly. “Well, not anymore. We found out that we worked better as friends. And as horticulturists.”

Arthur cups a golden rose casually in his hand, looking out intently for thorns. “Naturally.”

“Why don’t you take one of those?” Without waiting for an answer, Merlin magically produces a pair of shears and snips off a single golden rose in full bloom. He whisks a pin out of thin air and sticks it in his mouth like he’s some kind of tailor. Arthur can’t make himself stop staring at his mouth. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, his hands busy smoothing Arthur’s collar flat. His fingers brush Arthur’s throat—Arthur swallows—and he half-turns to pick up the rose from the counter. With nimble fingers, he deftly pins it to Arthur’s collar, a smile hovering around his mouth after he’s done. Merlin’s hands rest on Arthur’s chest for a moment too long, and Arthur’s heart beats like a drum.

Merlin walks him to the greenhouse door, one hand on Arthur’s arm. “Come by next time and I’ll show you the new breed.”

When Arthur gets home that evening, he carefully unpins the rose from his collar, pressing it between the leaves of his mother’s leather-bound hardcover book.

❦

Arthur stops by Merlin’s place on his next delivery, another cutting sent from Freya. He scowls down at the return address for no reason he can name.

Merlin smiles at him when he arrives. “Come see,” he says. Blooming on the worktable is [a yellow rose with red edges](http://www.flickr.com/photos/sxbaird/6753676639/lightbox/).

“It’s beautiful,” Arthur says honestly.

Merlin smiles. “I thought about naming the new species _Rosa pendragonii_. Pendragon’s Rose. What do you think?”

Arthur turns to stare at him, uncomprehending. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Merlin sighs. “I give up. I’ve had more luck flirting with a rock.” He hauls Arthur in by the collar of his uniform and kisses him soundly.

Arthur gasps against his mouth. Merlin’s lips are soft, his mouth firm and unyielding, and Arthur finds himself kissing back.

Merlin groans, softly nibbling Arthur’s lip. “I really want to suck you off.”

“Right,” Arthur says shakily, and he’s pressed up against the worktable and his trousers are around his ankles almost before he knows it. 

Merlin’s mouth on him is a warm wet heat that leaves Arthur gripping the table until his knuckles turn white to keep himself from keeling over. Merlin slides his tongue along Arthur’s cock slowly, as if savouring it, pressing the flat of his tongue against the slit to lick the liquid catching on the head. Arthur struggles to keep from thrusting into that hot mouth, can’t decide if he should close his eyes to enjoy the sensation or keep them open to watch every second of Merlin’s lips wrapped around his cock. 

Arthur comes so hard, he feels his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll up to the back of his head.

Merlin licks his lips clean. “Can you stay for a bit longer, or will I keep on having to ask Freya to send me cuttings I already have?”

“I can stay as long as you want me to,” Arthur says.

* * *

36\. 

Gwen is a little bit in love with a girl in her fourth year differential geometry class.

The girl is _gorgeous_ , and she wears these jeans, every fucking day, that do incredible things for her arse. Not that Gwen imagines it ever needs much help. She’s lost entire lectures fantasizing about peeling her out of those jeans.

Her name is Morgana and she’s brilliant, more or less the only person who can actually answer the professor’s questions without having a nervous breakdown. She’s a smart-arse, too, always has a comeback, so different from Gwen, who stumbles and stutters over her words when she’s nervous.

Gwen can’t decide if she’d rather fuck her or be her.

In retrospect, asking Morgana to tutor her is both a terrible and fantastic idea.

*

It’s difficult to concentrate on covariant differentiation when Morgana’s talking about it in her rich voice, her long fingers are moving rapidly as she explains a new concept. When up close Gwen can see that her eyes are green behind her dark-framed glasses, god _dammit_.

“Thanks for doing this,” she says when their hour is up, trying not to fiddle nervously with the buttons on her shirt. Morgana flashes her a smile, but she doesn’t say anything, and after an awkward moment Gwen goes to get her wallet. 

“So it’s thirty quid, yeah? And is the same time next -” 

Morgana’s hand closes around hers and Gwen looks up, startled. Morgana is much closer than she expected, a predatory smile on her face, and then she’s kissing Gwen, her mouth perfect beyond belief.

Before Gwen can catch up with this course of events, Morgana pulls back.

“You are the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” she says, still only centimeters from Gwen’s lips. “Just ask me out next time.”

“I-I didn’t mean to - I mean, I-I wasn’t,” Gwen stutters, but Morgana stops it by kissing her again, her fingers sliding into Gwen’s hair and holy god, she’s good at this. 

Gwen’s hesitant at first, still not quite believing this is happening, but eventually she leans into it properly, kissing Morgana back. She puts her arms around her waist and pulls her closer, _finally_ getting her hands on that fantastic arse.

“Arse girl?” Morgana says, laughing into Gwen’s mouth. 

“Yours is ridiculous,” she retorts, biting down on Morgana’s lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. Morgana growls and, gripping Gwen’s hips tight, walks them back until Gwen’s thighs hit the back of the bed and she goes tumbling down onto it.

Morgana’s on top of her a moment later, one of her hands is sliding up her thigh and Gwen can’t help but spread her legs, letting her skirt ride up.

“Too fast?” Morgana breathes into her skin, forehead pressed behind her ear.

“No, no, just perfect,” she says, arching her back, pressing her body flush against Morgana’s.

Morgana slides her tongue back into her mouth, fast and wet, kissing her until Gwen’s dizzy. She doesn’t notice Morgana shifting on the bed until she presses her leg _up_ , hard, hot pressure, and she moans, embarrassingly loud.

“You like that?” Morgana teases, licking the shell of her ear. She doesn’t wait for a reply, just starts rocking her hips, her thigh pushing out a perfect rhythm and Gwen pushes back, far too far gone to be the least bit embarrassed about rubbing off on Morgana’s leg.

The denim feels rough and wonderful and if she could make herself stop for a moment, she’d beg Morgana to take off her panties so she could feel it against her bare cunt, get those fucking ridiculous jeans wet and messy. 

But she’s enjoying it too much, rocking against Morgana’s leg, her hands slipping under Morgana’s shirt to slide across her skin. 

“Mmm, can you come from this?” 

Gwen nods, and Morgana starts moving faster, rolling her hips more, and it feels fucking spectacular, rubbing against her clit at the top of her motion, and she just needs a little more, just another few moments, just a little bit - 

Morgana shoves up hard and lowers her mouth to Gwen’s neck, sucking a bruise into it, hard and sloppy, and Gwen comes, clit throbbing, panties soaked.

Best maths lesson _ever_.

* * *

37\. 

Merlin groans when the phone rings. He snatches his hand guiltily out of his pants and rolls over to smother a scream into the pillow before he picks up.

“How long are you going to avoid me?”

“It’s been a _day_. How can you possibly be this calm already?”

“I’m used to your magic bringing whimsy into our lives,” Arthur says dryly.

“But you’ve never been so, erm, bodily dragged into it,” he says as he waggles fingers that moments before had been perilously, deliciously, close to Arthur’s _cock_. He’s going to hell.

“You’re just lucky this happened during reading week. Wasn’t planning on leaving my flat much anyway.”

“I really am very sorry,” he whispers.

“You are,” is the light reply. “Sorriest excuse for a wizard ever. Which luckily for us means this should wear off soon enough. In the meantime, I get to see how the other half lives. Although, I’m shocked you’re able to in these appalling conditions.”

There’s an ominous shuffling noise, and Merlin blanches. “You’re not _cleaning my flat_ , are you?”

“Someone has to.”

“Stay out of my things!”

“Well, you won’t let me come over--”

“Of course you can come over, this is your flat! I said we should swap back!”

“No, we’d both have to stay at mine; I can’t stay there by myself looking like this.”

“Your doormen all recognise me!”

“They don’t allow visitors to stay in the absence of the tenants. Something about appearing as if I’m subletting. What’s with this aversion to seeing yourself anyway? You’ll finally know the pain all of us have had to deal with for years.”

“Hilarious,” he replies, staring at the well-manicured fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Fingers he’s imagined _inside of him_ , god. How could he possibly tell Arthur how when he’d idly flipped through the TV in search of mind-numbing distraction, he’d stopped on a curvy blonde and felt a spike of arousal that no woman had ever brought out in him before. Which meant that the moment Arthur saw Merlin, Merlin’s body would react the way it always did, the way he spent years carefully making sure Arthur would never know. It occurs to him belatedly that there’s a rather lingering silence on the phone. “Arthur?”

“Hm, yes,” is the distracted-sounding reply. “You’re carrying precious cargo there. I have an intensive regimen I’ll need to go over. There’s the hair and proper food, not the junk you eat, and exercise, if you have me slack off and I pay for it during footie, I will end you...”

Merlin’s mind drifts as Arthur’s authoritative tone in Merlin’s own voice washes over him, and he looks down at strong forearms, thick thighs, and to his horror, he feels himself growing hard. He’s not sure how this works -- he feels things his own body wouldn’t normally, but then there are things he makes this body feel as if it were his own. Although Arthur’s a raging narcissist, so maybe he always turns himself on. His mind suddenly snaps back to attention. “ _What?_ ”

“Jesus, lower the decibel level, will you? You should know how sensitive your enormous ears are.”

“ _What did you say_?”

“Wanking,” Arthur repeats casually. “It’ll be days before your magic dissipates, and a daily wank is essential for me. Helps with the stress, especially with exams coming up. I’ll just tell you what I like, so you can get in there quick and get the job done. Purely mechanical. Like eating my meals--”

“Oh my god.” Maybe Merlin’s magic was warping Arthur while he was in there.

“--and you’ll tell me what you like, so I can do the same for you.”

And there went the rest of Merlin’s brain cells. The thought of Arthur touching his body made him harder even as he fought off the urge to cry. The only time Arthur would ever touch him, and Merlin wouldn’t even be there to enjoy it. And touching Arthur made him feel dirty, because Arthur had no clue the advantage Merlin would really be taking.

“I already tried when I woke up, but it’s clear you do it differently. Couldn’t rub one off properly. I mean, myself, I like a bit of hard and fast. Figures you’d probably like it slow and lazy like you are with everything else. But your arse keeps clenching up, mate, and you feel all _tense_ , had no idea what that was about, but then I just found the most interesting box next to your bed--"

* * *

38.

The nice thing about dating your roommate is that you're already living together. Unfortunately, the awful thing about dating your roommate is _you're already living together_ , and when you haven't actually done anything more than a little under-the-shirt groping, it makes retiring to bed every night feel like a minefield.

Or maybe it's just awful because Merlin is _Merlin_ , and the most socially awkward guy on campus. God knows, Elyan doesn't ever seem awkward when he glances at his watch, prods Merlin with his elbow, and says, "God, I'm bushed. In or out, Merlin." He doesn't comment on the fact that Merlin never, ever takes him up on the invitation, just slinks across the room to his own bed, his face ablaze.

#

Merlin dozes in Elyan's bed until he's woken with a nudge. "Go on. Off to bed."

He's awake instantly. He sits, trying not to be stung by the abandonment of their ritual, but failing spectacularly. Elyan touches his knee and catches his eye. "Or you can stay, and we can talk about it?" There's no rejection in his gaze, just a quiet wondering.

#

"It's not you," Merlin says, hunching miserably, then realizes what he said. "I mean, this isn't the 'it's not you, it's me' speech. I'm just…" Merlin struggles for words and hopes Elyan will say something. But Elyan just waits, until Merlin says, "Terrified?" in a humiliating squeak.

#

"What are you afraid of?" Elyan asks later. But Merlin thinks the better question is, _What_ aren't _you afraid of?_ At least the answer would be shorter.

"You name it," Merlin admits, "I've probably worried about it."

#

"Okay," Elyan says abruptly. "I've got an idea."

Merlin pushes up and looks down at him. "What idea?"

"We'll make a pact." He rubs his thumb over Merlin's hip. "Tonight, everyone's clothes stay where they are."

"It's brilliant. We'd better notify the Nobel Committee."

Elyan flicks his fingernail against his waist. "Don't be a smartass," he says. But they both know he might as well tell the sun not to shine.

#

"You want to hear the rest or not?"

Merlin's working his way through a particularly thorny chapter of calculus homework, but he's used to Elyan's rambling, so he says, "Sure, lay it on me," without paying much attention.

"Tomorrow, you get to remove one piece of clothing. Yours or mine, whatever you like.

Merlin blinks and looks up. "I'm sorry, run that by me again?"

Elyan grins. "The next day, you get to take off two."

Merlin throws the math book aside without another thought.

#

"Slight problem," Merlin says. They're in bed, Elyan on his back, both clothed but kissing and touching. It's nice, but— "We've done this before."

Elyan grins like a jack o'lantern. "Not exactly." He guides Merlin's hands down his chest, past his waist, where Merlin never dared for fear Elyan would want to take things somewhere he wasn't ready to go. But with the rule and their clothes firmly in place, it feels like much safer territory.

#

Merlin lightly traces the shape of Elyan's cock through his pajamas. "I can't," he stammers. "I don't know…" Everything he can think that Elyan might want requires breaking the rules. The thought of removing clothes fills Merlin's stomach right back up with nerves.

"Like this." Elyan pulls Merlin down, lets him settle between his thighs. He rocks up, pressing his hardening cock against Merlin's.

"Oh—" Merlin leans his head on Elyan's shoulder and bears down against his next thrust. " _God_."

"Mmhmm." Elyan cups the back of Merlin's head and guides him into a filthy kiss.

#

Merlin's lost track of where Elyan's hands are. Everything's been swallowed by a haze of need and pleasure. When Elyan presses a thigh between Merlin's and gives him something solid to move against, Merlin's lost. He comes in his pants with a broken cry, then collapses onto Elyan's chest, boneless.

#

"Oh God. I can't believe I shot off like that. I told you I'd be terrible."

Elyan laughs. He pulls Merlin's hand between them, where he can feel Elyan's softening cock and the growing damp spot on the front of his pajamas. "You were _not_ terrible."

"Oh." Merlin's face flushes hot and pleased.

#

They separate to change. When Merlin's done, he turns and hesitates, caught in the middle of the room, Elyan on one side and his own cold bed on the other.

"In or out," Elyan says, smiling uncertainly

Somehow, it's easy. Merlin climbs in with him and presses close.

* * *

39\. 

Prince Arthur is sixteen summers of age, well-built for a boy, with a naturally curious mind. It’s also the age where he cannot think about soft breasts (sometimes, lean muscled chests) and dark, red mouths without tenting his breeches. (It’s unfortunate and embarrassing.)

He wanks several times a day, thinking about the bawdy jokes he hears sometimes in the lower town and snatches of features he’s seen: the butcher’s daughter with her dark, inviting eyes; one of the stable boys – Ed, his name was – who had large, calloused hands; a noblewoman’s legs, dainty and dark with pretty ankles.

Of late he’s been wondering how it’s like to sink his cock into warm, wet flesh – flesh that isn’t his own hand covered with spit.

Well, this is _almost_ like the real thing.  
**

It’s easy enough to smile sweetly at the cook and ask her for a fruit pie. She obliges happily and winks at him, and for a moment, Arthur feels exposed, like she knows that he’s going to desecrate her cooking.

But any doubts fly from his mind as he sinks his cock into the warm hole made by pressing through the crust.

“Oh,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s almost-hot and sticky and _wet_. Nothing at all like his hand. A lift of the hips and he’s fucking into it, gasping at the texture – soft and yet firm enough not to crumble completely with his careful thrusting. The warmth pools pleasantly in his belly and he drags his nails on his nipples, whimpering at the sensation. 

_One of my better ideas_ , he thinks with a hysterical giggle. Father had given him The Talk about tumbling the servants months earlier, and really, this felt about the same anyway. Probably better though, since it was _safe_.

He’s about two thrusts from coming when he hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps.  
**

“Carry on,” Merlin says, managing to sound both embarrassed and amused at once.

Arthur grits his teeth and hisses at him to latch the door. Really, could he have come at a more inconvenient time? He can feel his face heat and he’s struggling to think of an appropriate explanation.

“I can help you, you know,” Merlin says. He can hear the footsteps coming to a stop behind him. “Make it feel even better.”

Arthur’s annoyance wars with his curiosity. Merlin’s older than him by a year and frequently drives the point home, but it is true that the ways of the country are foreign – exciting to him, a boy born in the ivory towers of Camelot.

“Like this,” Merlin says, and then spreads Arthur’s calves apart. He feels hot breath against his thighs, his arse, and then, _oh_. 

Merlin is licking his hole carefully, just around, teasing; flat, little licks. He laves his flesh slowly and Arthur feels bowled over with how much he wants it to be _inside_ him. Then his clever tongue thrusts and Arthur screams. 

It’s different from fingers. Merlin’s tongue is warm and wet and alive, like an animal, and it’s burrowing deep in and tracing him inside. How his tongue could thrust so deep, Arthur has no idea. 

Then Merlin pushes him slightly and he takes this as a cue to continue thrusting in the pie, and the double stimulation is so arousing that he comes not long after, feeling wrung out after the intensity of his climax.

He lies panting on the bed with the pie crushed underneath his body.

“Good?” Merlin asks, breathless. 

Arthur turns around and sits up, smushed pie and all.

Merlin is unlacing his breeches, occasionally stopping to palm at his erection and moaning a little. They fall with the soft sound of fabric.

“Yeah,” he replies, and stares, fascinated, at Merlin’s long fingers. He’s thumbing at the slit of his flushed cock and then pulling roughly, quickly. It looks almost painful, but he seems to like it that way, and when he comes it spurts, forming an arc before landing and staining the bed.

“Wow.” 

Merlin grins at him.

“Teach me how to do that,” Arthur says.

That summer, they find out just how many ways it’s possible to come.

* * *

40\. 

warnings: public sex (sort of)

 

“Remember, they haven’t seen each other for over a year. It needs to be desperate and wild, but still sensuous and full of feelings.”

“No problem,” Arthur says for both of them, cocky grin in place.

“Hop on the bed then.”

~x~

_Alan rocks into Martin’s heat, kissing Martin’s lips like it’s what keeps him from dying. Covers slips from his back as Martin hooks his leg around him, pulling him in deeper. He gasps into Alan’s mouth._

~x~

“Great guys. Take five and we’ll go again, okay?”

~x~

Merlin kisses Arthur with all he has, all of his nerve endings on fire from Arthur’s intimate touches. He gasps for real when Arthur bears against him hard, bringing their barely covered groins together.

Merlin’s hardening rapidly as Arthur continues rubbing him with his own erection. His heart is beating wildly in his chest while he’s slowly dragged towards orgasm.

He follows the motions as per the script, even when Arthur’s mouth on his neck is sending hot spikes of pleasure through his whole body.

~x~

“Hot like fire, guys. Hot like fire. Keep it up and we’ll be going home in no time.”

~x~

“Are you crazy? They’ll know,” Merlin hisses, urge to buck up overwhelming.

“Know what?” Arthur asks, grinning down at Merlin. “Everyone in this room knows about us dating. The whole world knows that. And of course everyone here knows we’re both hard.”

“I hate you.”

“Whatever you say, _darling_.”

~x~

_Alan’s thrusts become erratic and he whispers “I love you” against Martin’s lips._

~x~

Arthur’s cock is pressed in between Merlin’s arse cheeks, the fabric covering it dragging over Merlin’s hole. It clenches under the stimulation.

~x~

“I bet you’re enjoying this. You love that they can see you with me. You want them to know I’m yours just as I want them to see them you’re mine,” Arthur whispers into Merlin’s ear. “You’re so hard. You’ll come for me this time, won’t you? And whole world will be able to watch it.”

Merlin shudders under Arthur, his hips twitching up without his permission.

~x~

_Alan’s words echo in Martin’s ears as he meets each one of his thrusts._

_“I love you,” Alan says again and Martin’s world turns white with pleasure._

~x~

Merlin can’t stop thinking about Arthur’s filthy whispers. His whole body is tight with anticipation as they move through the motions. Arthur’s cock is massaging his balls and then nudging at his entrance and Merlin wants nothing more than feel him inside. 

“I love you,” Arthur says, his hips stuttering and Merlin isn’t sure if the devotion in Arthur’s eyes is just acting or reality.

He starts moving, not holding back a bit this time. Arthur repeats the words and this time Merlin knows they’re not meant for Martin.

His mind blanks out as he comes.

~x~

“Pure gold!” Gwaine shouts. “I knew you’d make him lose it.”

“You bastard,” Merlin growls, hitting Arthur’s shoulder with as much force as he can muster with his body still recovering from his orgasm.

Smile slowly spreads over his face and then it turns into a smirk.

“What?” Arthur asks, his victorious grin faltering.

Merlin pulls his head down.

“Revenge,” he whispers into Arthur’s ear and flips him on his back.

“Keep rolling,” Gwaine mouths at the cameraman.

* * *

41\. 

Everything had been going so well. At least, Arthur had thought so. Months ago, his flatmate of several years -- a man he had been _sure_ was straight as an arrow and had no interest in Arthur as anything more than a friend -- had proved in no uncertain terms that he was not only bisexual, but that he was just as attracted to Arthur as Arthur was to him.

Since then, a night out at the pub or the occasional club had seen them back at the flat, usually on Merlin’s bed, fucking like tomorrow would never come, and Arthur in his own bed before the morning. 

As far as Arthur was concerned, things were good. So what if there were no good morning kisses or lingering glances or any of those familiar, fleeting touches that lovers got soppy over. That just wasn’t them.

They lived together and hung out together. They bickered and teased, and they were just as close of mates as they’d ever been. The only difference now was that most nights ended with Arthur’s dick in Merlin’s ass until both of them got off. 

So when they got home from the pub that night, already hard and wanting, trading wet, heated kisses and dropping clothes all over the flat, Arthur was a little floored when Merlin said, “I don’t want you to fuck me tonight.”

It took a few seconds for Arthur to come clear of the lust haze he’d fallen into, and when he did, he pulled back as though he’d been burned. “Wait,” he said, confused. “What?”

“I said,” Merlin replied, pulling them further into what Arthur realized was _his_ room. “I don’t want you to fuck me tonight.” He lay down on the bed and pulled Arthur down on top of him. “Tonight, we’re putting an end to this string of one-night stands we’ve been having.”

“What...?” Arthur gasped from the tiny kissed Merlin was planting all over his chest. “What do you want, Merlin?”

Merlin pulled away just far enough to look Arthur in the eye. “I want you to touch me. Just that. Just...touch.” Merlin sighed at Arthur’s blank look. “Like this,” he said, and proceeded to run his hands down Arthur’s back, rubbing and caressing as he drew Arthur into a deep kiss. 

Arthur moaned into Merlin’s mouth when he felt agile fingers fondle the crease of his ass, then skitter away to drag lightly down the back of his thigh. Merlin’s hips shifted beneath him, their cocks brushing briefly before Merlin pulled away. 

“No,” he whispered against the side of Arthur’s neck. “Just your hands. _Touch me_ , damn it!”

There was frustration in Merlin’s voice, and Arthur finally threw off his hesitation and let his hands start to wander. He dragged gentle fingers over the lines of Merlin’s face, caressing his high cheekbones and tracing the outline of his lips. Leaning down, he kissed his lover, delving deep as his hands continued down Merlin’s body. 

The moans and sighs he heard as he traced the outline of Merlin’s abs surprised him. He’d had no idea Merlin was so sensitive. Her grinned ferally when Merlin arched into his touch and breathed, “More. Arthur.”

Arthur’s lips soon followed his fingers, his tongue flicking out and tasting everywhere he could reach. Merlin writhed beneath him, his breath hitching as he cried out. Arthur lapped gently at the crease above Merlin’s thigh, holding his hips to keep him still.

Finally, Arthur reached the tip of Merlin’s twitching cock. He regarded it for a few seconds, considering. Instead of pulling it into his mouth and giving Merlin the blow job of his life, he simply rubbed it against the side of his face and breathed in. 

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned. “Please. So close. Please.”

Arthur blinked and laid a kiss to the side of Merlin’s cock. He licked a wet, hot stripe from the base to the tip and had to pull back quickly as Merlin shouted and came hard. Arthur could only watch in wonder. He’d had no idea Merlin was so sensitive, or that just Arthur’s touch could get him off like that. 

A tug on his hair had him scrambling up Merlin’s body, laying random kisses as he went. It didn’t take more than a couple of pulls of Merlin’s hand on his cock to have Arthur finding his own release; and he collapsed on his lover, content not to move for the rest of the night.

* * *

42\. 

"This isn't our room," Arthur says after he and Merlin stumble into it, arms locked around each other, not bothering to turn on the light. Looking around in the dark, he doesn't think it's theirs. While Morgana probably doesn't want them having sex in _any_ of her beds, it's probably even ruder to do it in another guest's room.

"Yeah it is," Merlin says, punctuating his words with kisses down Arthur's jaw. "Third door on the right. See?" He points to the corner. "Our luggage."

Arthur squints. He may've had a couple glasses of celebratory campaign, but he's pretty sure that's a, "Chair, Merlin. It's a chair."

"No it isn't," Merlin says. He tries to steer Arthur to the bed. When Arthur doesn't move, Merlin growls and presses close, sucking at Arthur's neck.

Arthur's protest is lost when Merlin kisses him, tongue delving into his mouth, and that's just a sneaky trick if he's ever seen one. But it doesn't stop Arthur from sucking, caressing it with his own. Merlin's hands scramble to unzip Arthur's trousers and there's no way Arthur's going to resist the way Merlin's shoving his hand in to rub Arthur's cock.

"Okay, okay." He tugs at Merlin's shirt. "Come on, to the bed with you."

"That's what I'm been trying -- this was your idea!" Merlin pulls away, hurriedly getting naked. He throws himself back onto the bed, pale skin catching the distant streetlight from the window, and reaches up with grabby hands. "Come _on_."

"Pushy," Arthur says, though he's not complaining. He gets naked quickly, and in a moment is leaning over Merlin, pressing him down into the bed. He starts kissing him, teasing little nips at his mouth, lips sliding down to the crook of his neck. Merlin moans and clutches him even closer. 

"Fuck me," Merlin says filthily into Arthur's ear. "I want you to fuck me."

"God, me too." Arthur tries to pull away, but Merlin whines and won't let go. Laughing, Arthur says, "Let me get the lube. I'll get you ready so good and quick, I promise."

Merlin hums happily, letting up his iron hold. Arthur reaches over to fish around in the nightstand, where Merlin put their lube -- it's always the first thing he unpacks. After a couple seconds, Arthur realises he can't find it.

"It's not here."

"What? Why not?" Merlin demands.

"Because this isn't _our room_."

"Oh, fuck _me_."

"Well," Arthur says, almost desperately, "now I can't. Right here, anyway." He goes to lean up. "Come on, let's go--"

"No," Merlin says, pulling Arthur back down to him. "We're getting off right _now_."

"We don't know whose room this is," Arthur hisses.

"I don't care, if you don't hump my arse right the hell now--"

" _What_?"

Merlin huffs loudly, and is instantly in action. He pushes Arthur down onto the bed, and Arthur -- to lost and turned on to protest all that much -- goes with it. Merlin flips over, pushing his back against Arthur's chest so that Arthur is spooning him.

Merlin reaches between his own legs and Arthur make a surprised noise when he grabs Arthur's cock, pulling him forward.

"Fuck, yeah," Arthur says, voice rough, when he finally gets it -- when he feels the soft skin of Merlin's thighs around his cock. 

"Yeah, like that," Merlin says when Arthur pushes up against his arse. 

Arthur pulls Merlin closer, and his hips start moving as he mouths sloppy kisses against Merlin's shoulder and neck. He reaches around and takes Merlin's cock in hand, jerks him off in tandem as he fucks his thighs and humps against him. 

"Like that, I want -- god, when your cock bumps my balls, that's _amazing_ ," Merlin groans, wriggling around and flexing his muscles and it's brilliant, it's bloody brilliant.

Merlin comes first, groaning and spurting into Arthur's hand. Merlin reaches down, slicks his hand up with come, and then spreads it between his own thighs.

"Damn it, Merlin," Arthur says, biting his shoulder. It's such an easy, slick slide now, and when he comes, Merlin's legs are a _mess_.

They stay pressed together, boneless and sated, until their breath is in an easy, matching rhythm. Arthur's soft cock is still trapped between Merlin's warm, sticky legs and he noses behind Merlin's ear.

"Wonder whose room this is," Arthur says idly.

They both go still as the doorknob jiggles, and then Merlin laughs quietly. "Guess we're about to find out."

* * *

43.

Warnings: sex workers, D/s, age difference

 

She's been here longer than anyone else. She knows the streets—she knows the house. She knows the girls, she knows the boys, she knows the men outside.

She owns them all.

Nim's gone now—Annis's husband is gone too—which means she's the boss. She still takes jobs, but gets to pick her own clients. Only ones that hold special interest for her, nothing less, and appointments don't come cheap.

"Whatever the rate is, I'll pay it," the boy says, sounding young and far too arrogant from over the line. "I want the best."

"The best doesn't work for money, darling," Annis says. "She works for fun."

"You can't run a business that way," the boy scoffs.

"Supply and demand," she says, easy. "I am in high demand. I can afford to limit my clients to just the ones who beg for it, naked, on bended knee. Even then, I can still pick and choose."

There is silence, and the sound of a slow, confused swallow.

The corner of her mouth raises. "Are you going to beg for it, darling?"

**

The boy is blond, nearly a man but not quite there, despite what he might think. The strength in his chin is familiar. The name he gives is Arthur, and he would remind her of Uther Pendragon, were it not for the way he bends easily beneath her hands, where Uther would have snapped. She strips him herself, raising a brow at the gold cufflinks. He flushes.

At last he is unburdened, standing before her bare. He is strong and vulnerable at once. She touches his shoulder gently, and he kneels.

Responsive. Willing.

She grips his hair and forces his face to the floor.

"I can sense your guilt," she says, cold.

He pants, fists curling as she digs her elbow into his back, commanding his whole body. He doesn't deny anything, but gives no answers—his eyes close.

"Now, would you like me to punish you, or forgive you?" she asks. He tries to look back at her, but she just tightens her fist in his hair. She knows what he'll choose, the type who's ashamed at how much he loves being on his knees, but she still want to hear him ask for it.

"I—" he says.

She kisses his shoulder, gentle.

"—Punishment," he says.

"As I thought," she says, and kisses his shoulder again, even more slowly, and then his neck.

"I said—"

"I heard you," she says, and has him on his back in a second, still cool. "You think pain is the greatest punishment I can give you? Pain is an easy cure for guilt, and I will not let you have it so easily."

His blue eyes, so fierce, remind her of a harder man.

**

The bedroom is her torture chamber, her tongue her greatest weapon. Arthur cries out and sometimes just cries, cock hard against the sheets or in her hand. Annis plays him like an instrument, finding his weakest spots and exploiting them, methodical.

"I imagine your father wouldn't approve of this," she says when she first pets at the little silver bar through his nipple, wringing whimpers from him. Then she grips it, careful, just hinting at the sort of pain she could inflict if she felt so kind. "Does he know what sort of boy you are underneath?"

"No," Arthur whimpers.

She twists his nipple, then soothes him when he clutches at her for more. He has a sweet taste, somewhere between justice and revenge.

**

"Do you want it?" Annis asks, fingers pressing in ever so gently.

He shakes his head but twists, indecisive. His back arches, arse raising.

She tells him, " _Be still_."

He is so obedient, body stilling and arse slackening to accept her inside, that she has to pull away. She just touches him for a moment, and he curls close.

"You are the most wondrous slut," she whispers, petting his hair. He puts his face in his hands.

* * *

44\. 

Merlin is finishing up some assigned reading under the guise of watching Morgana and Arthur and a couple of their friends while their parents are out for the weekend. 

They’re old enough that calling it ‘babysitting’ would be insulting to everyone, but young enough not to be trusted alone with Uther’s liquor cabinet. ‘Keeping an eye on the teenagers’ is a pretty decent way to earn some extra cash, so long as no one ends up getting killed or maimed by the time Sunday rolls around. Merlin simply tunes out the background noise of video games and chatter while he studies. Which, if he were back at the dorms with Gwaine and Elyan, is what he’d be doing anyway. 

All is postmodernism and boredom in Merlin’s world, until he catches a thread of Arthur and Leon’s conversation and falls into the listening trap (you know, that thing where you’re trying not to listen, so, naturally, that leads to listening even harder). Morgana and Gwen have made off with a bag of chips and dip to the superior territory of Morgana’s bedroom, and, in a move universal to all sixteen year old boys abandoned to their own company, they start talking about sex. 

Leon is sniggering as Arthur describes his perfect pair of breasts, and Merlin can’t help himself. It’s so sweet, and earnest, and young — so he laughs. It startles the boys out of their conversation at just the right moment for them to clearly catch Merlin’s muttered “You are such a _virgin_ , Arthur.” 

Which wasn’t his intention. Because he was speaking to himself. But they both hear it, and Arthur’s face goes bright red, and now Merlin feels like a giant asshole. 

Leon, because he’s a sweet kid and also intensely loyal to Arthur, doesn’t even acknowledge the comment. He just pelts Arthur in the head with a cheetoh and insults his lackluster chainsawing ( _Gears of War_ , Merlin thinks vaguely — Gwaine and Elyan are more _Call of Duty_ types themselves) and they turn back to their game like Merlin isn’t even there. 

Merlin watches them subtly the rest of the night, but Arthur’s shoulders never quite relax.

+++

Merlin is not expecting to be accosted in the middle of a dark hallway after the rest of the house has gone to sleep. He acknowledges, distantly, that it would be fair to call the noise he makes a squeal. Arthur claps a hand over his mouth, hustling them into the spare room Merlin’s been using.

“What the hell are you doing!” Merlin hisses, flailing Arthur off. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said, but you really don’t have to kick my ass over it.” Arthur might be young, but he’s built, and Merlin subsists on the dust from his textbooks and Red Bull. He’s realistic about his chances in a fight.

“How did you know?” Arthur demands, and it takes Merlin a moment to figure out what he means. 

“Oh,” Merlin says. “Well—” and stops abruptly because Arthur is kissing him. “Okay, what?” he says when Arthur pauses to look at him. Then Arthur kisses him again, this time going straight for tongue-in-mouth, and Merlin has to gently disengage him. With both hands. 

“Have sex with me,” Arthur says. 

“I’m not actually a girl, you know.” 

“So?” 

“Look, Arthur,” Merlin starts, and is interrupted with another kiss, and Arthur smells surprisingly good, and he feels amazing, and— “I am not having sex with you!” Merlin breaks away, pinching Arthur’s lips shut when he starts to protest. “I mean, being honest, you’re really hot. And technically old enough. But maybe think on this one for a little longer than five minutes, yeah?”

“God, come on Merlin!” Arthur whines, rubbing his dick all up Merlin’s thigh, and wow, not fair. 

“Fuck, you are packing, okay,” Merlin says, distracting himself with another kiss. Arthur makes a happy noise. Wait a minute! “Argh, fine, you manipulative little shit. I’ll get you off, how about that? We’ll talk about sex...later.” 

“Dad’s out of town again next week,” Arthur says, mouthing at Merlin’s neck while Merlin shuffles them over to the bed. 

“Christ,” Merlin says, skimming Arthur’s shorts off, and just. Fuck it. Ethics are for the morning, anyway. He gets himself a mouthful of hot, thin skin, right at the crease between Arthur’s thigh and groin. Merlin jerks his cock fast and tight, pulling away right as Arthur’s gut begins to clench. “Come on, you’re right there,” Merlin urges, pinning Arthur down when he tries to finish himself, and Merlin thinks there are some serious perks to being a virgin and a teenager because Arthur shouts, overwhelmed, when he comes on nothing more than his own aroused momentum.


	3. Group C (with warnings)

45\. 

When Arthur told people he worked as the CEO of a sex toy manufacturer and retailer they usually had one of three responses. The first was to delicately avoid the revelation and never mention his day job in further conversation. The second was to scrunch up their faces in curiosity and ask deeply personal regarding his job and sex life. The third response was usually to give him a saucy wink and comment that it ‘sounded fun’, in some sort of attempt to come on to him.

It usually wasn’t fun. Especially when it was 8pm on a weekday and his office phone was ringing. All Arthur wanted was to go home, but that didn’t seem like a possibility that was going to occur anytime soon.

“Arthur Pendragon,” he answered abruptly. If he had to suffer working late, everyone who bothered to annoy him would suffer in companionship.

“Is this Camelot Kink Incorporated?” a quiet voice asked; sweet welsh tones twisting something in Arthurs gut. He always did have a thing for accents. “I have some feedback about your Griffin model…” the voice hesitantly continued when Arthur failed to respond quickly enough.

Arthur remembered the Griffin; an entirely black, fairly sizable dildo that had been very popular since its release two years ago. He could just imagine what that sexy Welsh voice would have sounded like when he played with it and had it angled at the correct position for maximum pleasure.

Arthur coughed manfully, clearing his throat and expelling the dirty thoughts racing around in his mind. “Yes, right,” he answered brusquely, “this is definitely Camelot Kink but I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong division, you’re supposed to talk to our customer service reps.” CEOs were CEOs, they usually had much better things to do than deal with this type of thing. “How did you even get this number?” he questioned. 

“It was on the warranty card,” the sexy Welsh voice said drily, continuing on in a mocking tone, “You know, in the section were it says; ‘Please call here if you have any complaints or feedback’.” 

Arthur groaned when he remembered that Morgana had been in charge of the Griffins release. Two years ago she had sworn revenge for the incident with Morgause. All things considered publishing his office number for all and sundry seemed like a rather weak attempt at vengeance. She had really stepped up her game in consequent years.  
“Well sir, we’ve never had any complaints before,” Arthur said scornfully, purposely not imagining how the sexy Welsh voice may be attached to sexy Welsh man, with long lanky limbs and rich jet black hair, because attaching his personal preferences of sexual partner to a voice was freaky and strange, so Arthur was definitely not doing that. Not even a little. “Do you even know how to use a dildo properly?” he continued.

The voice choked and spluttered a little, anger resonating down the telephone line. “Of course I do! Haven’t you ever heard of the saying ‘the customer is _always_ right’?” the voice complained, sounding like an adorably irritated woodland creature chattering away at unknown predator.

Arthur smirked. “I have heard of that saying,” he agreed. “And I happen to believe it,” he paused slightly for dramatic emphasis, “ _when_ the customer isn’t an absolute _idiot_."

The voice hanged up on him. Arthur was a little disappointed.

~~~

It took two days for the next call to come through.

_“Yes, I’d like to complain about your ‘Knights’ range of nipple clamps.”_

They continued every week after that.

~~~

“You’re doing this just to annoy me aren’t you?” complained Arthur during the fifth call, his lunch going cold on the table before him, arousal shooting through him as The Voice detailed his experience with the ‘Dragon’ prostate massager.

“I was at first but now it’s just _fun_ ”

~~~

“So I have some comments about the Excalibur range”

“I’m sorry whose speaking?”

“You know exactly who it is, you prat!”

“I’m sorry but I don’t, you’re just an anonymous voice at the end of a phone. I don’t even know your name,” Arthur said bitterly, tired of the games between them.

“It’s Merlin,” the voice stated hesitantly, an odd hitch in his tone. 

Arthur rolled his eyes in disbelief. No one was actually called Merlin in reality.

A little moan caught Arthur’s attention. “Merlin, what are you doing?”

“Using my fingers; thinking of you stroking me, pulling me, kissing me.”

Arthur gasped at Merlins sexy little mewls, as they traded dirty talk and fantasies until both of them had reached completion, an easy silence stretching between them. 

Arthur was the first to breach the silence.

~~~

“Out of all the names you could have chosen, you picked Merlin as your fake name?”

“Who said it was fake?” was the cheeky reply.

* * *

46.

 **Warnings:** bdsm

 

The rough material of the blindfold scratches across Arthur's eyes and the drag of Merlin's nails makes him shiver even as Merlin presses closer. Arthur can hear the faint beat from the club. This is one of the back rooms, Merlin's room with Merlin's chains and Merlin's whips.

"Going to fuck you so good," Merlin whispers.

The cold slide of leather up Arthur's back has Arthur bucking into the feel. Merlin's fingers dig into his back, his cock rubbing against Arthur's arse. Arthur tugs on the binding on his wrists, moans when they hold. He's bent over a table, wants to on it, get off his knees and let Merlin fuck into him. He wants to feel Merlin's fingers in his hair, tugging, pulling Arthur's head back.

"You look so pretty."

Merlin's words rub against Arthur's skin, the slide of the leather glove going up around Arthur's neck. When he feels Merlin's fingers against his mouth, Arthur opens, sucks, lets his tongue run over the tip of Merlin's fingers. 

Merlin moans and Arthur can't help the way his back arches, how he pushes back into Merlin's cock. 

"Yeah," Merlin whispers, his voice breathy. "Like that."

Arthur sucks harder, his tongue gliding over the smoothness of the glove. Merlin's moans get louder as though he can feel each flick of Arthur's tongue, as though Arthur is sucking something else. 

Merlin's hands are restless on Arthur's back, his hips pushing into the cleft of Arthur's arse, his legs pressed tight to the back of Arthur's. The edge of the table digs into Arthur's hip, his mouth working hard at Merlin's fingers, legs spread wide, almost begging for it.

"Say it," Merlin groans, his fingers finding Arthur's hair.

The way he tugs sends Arthur's head backwards, the blindfold tight against Arthur's eyes. He can feel Merlin's hot breath in his neck, hisses when Merlin bites down, licks and sucks the sensitive skin of Arthur's neck. 

"What do you want?"

Arthur almost says it, has the first syllables on the tip of his tongue. But, then Merlin's fingers are pulling away from Arthur's mouth, gloved nails digging their way down. Arthur's cock is heavy between his legs hitting the edge of the table whenever Merlin presses close. Arthur wants to touch, wants Merlin's fingers on him, working him. He wants to come apart so much, he's dizzy with it.

"Be my good boy," Merlin soothes. "Be good to me and let me work you. I'll make you feel so good, Arthur. Just let me."

Arthur's response is to open his legs wider and push back into Merlin's body. He can feel Merlin's gloved hand over his arse, caressing before Merlin draws his hand back. The sting of Merlin's gloved hand rips a gasp out of Arthur and he's moaning before he can stop himself.

Merlin yanks on Arthur's hair sending pain blooming from the top of Arthur's skull. The whoosh of breath makes Arthur dizzy and he wants those fingers in his hair somewhere else, wants them pushing inside him or on his dick, jerking him off.

"Please," Arthur begs.

"You don't make a sound until I say you can," Merlin says, his teeth bared against the back of Arthur's neck. "Not a sound."

Arthur's cock is swollen to the point of pain and his body feels heavy just from Merlin against his back. When Merlin's gloved fingers slip into Arthur has to breathe hard through his nose to stop from coming.

Merlin's brutal, his fingers scissoring Arthur open, in, out. Merlin bends his fingers, catches that spot inside Arthur that rips the yell from Arthur's throat. He comes over the table, the hot spurts of come coating Arthur's softening cock. 

"That's my good boy," Merlin praises.

* * *

47\. 

Merlin closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a deep breath. His fingers wrapped around his cock and he stroked lightly, the thumb swirling over the head. The bed underneath him was soft and the only sound he could hear was his own ragged breathing.

Behind his eyes he pictured a flash of blond hair and blue eyes, the curve of Arthur’s lips and the way muscles ripped beneath his skin.

Merlin moaned as he felt a weight sink down on the bed beside him and he kept his eyes closed, as he felt a warm body settle beside his.

“You’re doing so well.” Arthur’s voice was enough to set him off, to make him ache harder. He kept up the steady pace though, not rushing himself. Arthur had asked him to take it slow. He had confessed to Merlin that one of the things he had always wanted to see was Merlin getting himself off. Merlin had been all too happy to indulge him. Arthur had fulfilled his every dirty fantasy. This was the least Merlin could do for him.

Fingers brushed against the skin of his arm and Merlin caught his bottom lip in his teeth, biting down hard to try to focus. He needed to keep control of his body.

“That’s it.” Merlin felt the pre-come leaking from his cock, and he swiped his finger over it, smoothing it down over his length. He kept stroking himself, building up the pressure. Finally, he had to open his eyes, had to glance over at Arthur.

His blond hair was damp against his forehead and his eyes where intent as they watched Merlin, caught on the motion of his hand on himself. He looked mesmerized. Finally, his eyes moved up Merlin’s body and caught on his eyes. A smile split across Arthur’s lips, beautiful and soft. He leaned in to press a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin shuddered, feeling the warmth spread throughout his body. 

His fist gripped tighter and he couldn’t stop the moan that broke its way away from his lips, his throat dry. “Please.” he pleaded, his voice wrecked and desperate.

Arthur’s smile just broadening, twisting into something predatory and satisfied and he leaned forward. His body was curved over Merlin’s and his hand covered his, adding a pressure and a weight that made Merlin shake.

His eyes slipped closed again and Arthur increased their pace, pulling hard and tight. Merlin let his mouth fall open and he leaned into Arthur, letting him take control. “You’re beautiful like this,” Arthur murmured into his skin, his breath hot. “Spread out just for me.”

“Yes.” Merlin promised back, and let Arthur tear him apart as he spilled over their fists. His body shuddered and his lip ached from the pressure of his teeth as Arthur kept going, wringing every last drop from him.

Arthur gently eased him back to the bed, the warmth of him disappearing from Merlin’s side. Merlin breathed, still feeling the aftershocks as he felt Arthur come back and press a cool clothe to his skin, cleaning him up.

“Thank you.” Arthur told him softly as he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s thigh and settled in beside him.

* * *

48\. 

Warnings: spanking, exhibitionism

Pleasure Council

 

“The repairs to the south tower are well underway, Sire.”

“Excellent. The masonry there has been in disrepair far too long. We’re finally seeing progress.” Arthur didn’t seem nearly as distracted as he should have been, if you asked Merlin. He couldn’t find it in himself to really care much about stonework or anything else at the moment. In fact he was damned sure if the room caved in he wouldn’t move. “What have you to report, Sir Elyan?”

Arthur’s hand drove him to distraction quite easily, slipping languidly through the oil dripping down the crack of his arse, smeared over his balls and dripping on the floor. The King’s fingers ran teasingly over his hole, feather-light but enough to make him shudder where he lay draped over the bench Arthur had specially ordered for this purpose.

This wasn’t the first time, and that might be the reason he was only focused on pleasure and how dearly he wanted to string Arthur along by his balls for this torture, when before he had been too distracted by the knights to do anything. But that was the point wasn’t it? They liked ogling his ass as they gave their reports and he knew they took pleasure in seeing what Arthur would cook up for them all before the next meeting.

A sharp slap to his ass made him yelp and squirm against the padded leather cover to the bench and he realized his mind had wandered. And Arthur had noticed. Arthur swiped his hand roughly down Merlin’s crack, the harsh pressure near chafing though it made his body thrill. “Pay attention. I won’t tolerate your absentmindedness, Merlin.”

“Yes, Sire,” he muttered, earning himself another slap.

“What was that?”

Merlin flushed and hoped his entire body wasn’t turning cherry red. “I’m sorry, Sire. Please more, Sire.”

Arthur’s fingers reappeared, dragging down his crack again with deliberate slowness. He stopped and pressed, fucking massaged, his rim, teasing him so bad he thought he would explode. Around him there was some rustling and his cheeks rouged again as slick sounds took on their own rhythm around the room.

“Hear them?” Arthur murmured. “They take pleasure from watching you. You know they get off on remembering you like this. I wonder if they imagine you fucked out when they see you in the corridors.”

Merlin’s body seized and he whimpered as his cock throbbed with insistent pressure. He couldn’t get off like this. He’d tried, damn had he tried. And that had earned him punishment even worse.

His world tilted suddenly and he landed in an elbowed mess on Arthur’s lap. The next slap stung worst of all and landed across his balls, offered so nicely to Arthur what with Merlin’s groin being over Arthur’s knee. Merlin squirmed, trying to relieve the cutting pressure on his hips and groin.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Merlin. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

A chorus of low chuckles rang around the chamber and Merlin shuddered, head dropping as he curled around to press his forehead to Arthur’s hip. A calming hand ran down his flank as Arthur’s own laugh ran through him. That had to be a good sign, right?

* * *

49\. 

It's paint-night at Merlin's favourite bar. He passes through the crowd, settling into the dancefloor like coming home, the crush of bodies welcoming him in. It's been too long since he came here. He's been craving it.

And then, sure as shit, same as he remembers, comes the warm, hard arm around his waist, the tiny curled tip of a tail on a dragon tattoo snaking around its elbow, and Merlin leans back into the wall of muscle behind him, grinds his arse back too, already halfway to lost. 

'Minx,' growls the voice in his ear that Merlin never names despite the aching familiarity of it, because that's against the rules. 'God alone knows where you've been. I ought to leave you here.'

'Don't even think about it,' Merlin mutters, and if there hadn't been an amused huff of breath at his ear - _unnnh_ , fuck - he would have bet there was no way the man behind him could have heard it. The bass is thrumming in Merlin's lungs, and in pushing through into the centre of the crush he's been smeared with pink and orange and God-knows what other colours, and now the hand on his stomach drags its way through the paint and comes up to grab him by the chin and push.

'Want me to stay then?' The other hand comes up to rest on his breastbone, wrist brushing Merlin's nipple through his thin shirt. Merlin pretty much melts into the cradle of the body behind him, knees to knees, shoulders to shoulders, back to belly, arse to … well. His head lolls back on a very broad shoulder and his body won't stop moving, shaking to the beat in the air.

'Yes,' he says, too loud, in a break in the music before the beat drops on them from the sky. 'Fuck.'

There's a smile in the voice of the man behind him. 'Not here. Don't need to, anyway, do we?' and a hand slides over the front of Merlin's jeans. 

They sway and pop and the mass of people around them throw paint and whoop and holler and push against them like the tide and it doesn't matter, because nothing could throw their rhythm when Merlin's arse is grinding against a thick erection and he's trying not to jerk too hard into the too-hot grip of the hand outside his trousers. 'You don't need to be fucked,' the voice growls in his ear. 'You just need to be _touched_. You just need everyone sweating around you.'

The stupid thing is it's true, and Merlin is already on the edge, shaking with bass and desperation. 'Come on,' he mutters, and his facade slips. 'Need _you_ , just you, only ever you, please, _please_ -' It's against the rules, but Merlin doesn't care. He's flying now, carried on the rhythm of sex and music.

There's a tight, hot, _broken_ moan in his ear, and the man behind him shoves harder up against the crease of Merlin's arse in his stupid, tight jeans, and the hand on his cock tightens, pulls harder, faster. In the high, singing moment between one song and the next, there are teeth against Merlin's neck, just under his hairline, and he comes in his jeans, like a teenager, twitching and oversensitised and panting. 

And then suddenly Merlin's alone, unsupported, in the seething mass of uncaring, paint-smeared people on the dancefloor, jeans chafing him and breathing still ragged and out of control. 

***

He drags himself home at 3am, washes the smudged eyeliner and violently pink paint off his face, tries to dust as much glitter out of his hair as possible, and sneaks into bed.

Arthur rolls over, makes a contented noise, and spoons up against him, wraps his dragon-tattooed arm back around Merlin's waist. 

Merlin's drifting off to sleep when Arthur murmurs, deep and rough, 'Did you have a nice night?' and leans in close enough to bury his nose in Merlin's hair, his mouth slack and hot against the bitemark that pulses there, and Merlin's dick twitches. 

'Always,' he whispers. 'I love you.'

* * *

50.

He is on the lake, body nude and imperfect under the unforgiving light of the moon. Too skinny; all lanky limbs, sharp angles, and a ribcage that could use some additional filler. The quiet surface ripples in his wake as Merlin walks himself out several feet. The water lines up with his navel, deeper. He's obviously not out there for a swim.

Hidden behind an ample bush, Arthur starts. He needs to save Merlin, to pull him back from the current and keep him safe. But just as the toe of his boot sinks into the shore, he stops, his legs stiffening beneath him as he sees more than he should. The water is still rippling around Merlin, but Merlin isn't moving.

That's the first night. The night Arthur sees Merlin do magic for the first time.

**

The next day, Arthur can't get it out of his head—the sight of Merlin in the lake, the water rising up in columns, his voice a low rumbling chant that got right under Arthur’s skin in a tone that ghosted through his veins. He knows he should be angry. That the mere sight of Merlin doing _magic_ in _his kingdom_ is something worthy of the fiercest punishment. Merlin should be executed for his crimes. There's no doubt in Arthur's mind that Merlin has had such powers for some time. That the little coincidences and subtle luck he possessed weren't just happenstance at all.

Arthur is angry—of course he is angry—but it's not for the reasons that seem most appropriate: because Merlin is a sorcerer, because he has been lying under Arthur’s nose for years, because at any moment he could have brought down the whole of Camelot, killed Uther, set fire to the kingdom.

He should be angry for all these reasons, and yet he is really only angry for one: because he was aroused by what he saw.

The scene plays through his mind all night, well into the morning when he wakes up to find Merlin sweeping his chambers, prying the drapes apart to let the sunlight stream in over his bed.

"Rise and shine, sire!" Merlin calls, grinning his broad, toothy smile. It's such a good act. Arthur has fallen for it for years.

**

Merlin visits the lake once a week. Every Thursday. It's a ritual of some sort, but Arthur doesn't speak the language of Merlin's chants, so he really can't be sure. He only knows that Merlin is at his peak here, amongst the tendrils of magic seeping from his fingertips into the water. With Merlin's eyes glowing a yellow-gold that sets fire in Arthur's prick, and Merlin's thin, red lips working around the enchantments that glisten in the evening's glow.

Arthur cannot help but touch himself. His broad hand makes quick work of his shaft, hungrily devouring the sight of Merlin and his magic. He comes into his own palm, filling it with his seed as a sob wracks through him in one great spasm.

**

Arthur doesn't sleep or eat or breathe without his thoughts straying to Merlin and the lines of his body, the round of his arse cheeks, the length of his thin, smooth prick before it disappears into the water, the way the magic sizzles in the air, crackling against the shoreline. He is beside himself. Every chance he gets, Arthur sneaks into a lonely room and touches himself, eyes closed, lips parted, cock bared. He comes fast, watches it pool to the floor—insatiable.

One evening, he sees Merlin tucking the sheets in at his bed and loses control. He steps forward and yanks Merlin's wrist, hauls him back so quickly that he knows he was almost too rough. Merlin doesn't even struggle, not one ounce, as Arthur pins him to the wall and grinds their bodies together.

"Sire?"

All Arthur wants is to see the glow of his eyes. It eats at him like all dangerous taboos eat at even the best and wisest of men. Against his ear, Arthur whispers, “ _I know_ ,” and feels Merlin tense against him. “Show me.”

Arthur can almost see Merlin thinking it through, even as he sinks his teeth into his ear to taste him. God, he has waited months for this. When he pulls back, it’s just in time to see the flash of gold in Merlin’s eyes, the boyish grin at his lips, to hear the chant roll off his tongue. Arthur rocks his hips; Merlin meets his thrust.

* * *

51\. 

**Warning:** Spanking, hints of D/s. 

Gwaine groaned…loudly. 

Thwack!

Another blow landed on his reddened, naked ass pushing him further up the satin bedspread. His cock trapped against the soft fabric. 

“I told you to hold onto the bed posts. I expect to be obeyed,” Morgana gritted out as she flicked the riding crop for another fast blow.

“Yes, milady,” Gwaine shimmy’s down the bed and locks both hands around the bed posts. His bright red, ass positioned over the edge ready for Morgana’s crop. 

“Count them off like I told you,” She leans over his back and coos in his ear. Pulling back quickly she lands another blow.

Thwack!

“Five,” Gwaine stutters out hanging onto the bed post as heat flares through his ass warring with the decadent feel of the satin beneath him rubbing again his cock and chest. 

“Good boy! I might even consider rewarding you if you keep this up,” Morgana runs her finger along the hot, red mark on his ass. 

Gwaine tenses and pushes back against her finger, his body a mass of sensations craving contact.

Thwack!

Another blow lands and Gwaine muffles a scream into the bedspread and arches into the blow, his hands slipping from the bedpost. 

“Tut-tut,” Morgana leans forward and grabs his hair and pulls. Gwaine groans and ruts against the bedspread, “Both hands where I want them.”

Gwaine fumbles his hands back to the bed posts pushing his hips higher towards Morgana. 

“Better. Look how eager you are?” Morgana smirks as she touches his ass rubbing her finger back and forth over the bright red skin. 

Gwaine gives a strangled moan and pushes his ass into her fingers intensifying the burning pleasure with the pressure. 

Morgana trails the riding crop along the cleft of Gwaine’s ass to his hole. He tenses at the feel of it as she gently presses the black leather against his pucker. Not hard enough to push inside but enough to promise.

“You like that don’t you? “ Morgana smirks and pulls the crop back for another blow.

Thwack!

“Six,” Gwaine stammers.

“Well, done, I didn’t expect you to remember,” 

Gwaine ruts against the bed beneath. Cock impossibly hard, seeking any release from the sensory  
overload he can find, not daring to move his hands from where they are desperately holding onto the bed posts. 

Thwack!

Morgana lands another blow precisely on his ass cheeks. Gwaine’s whole body stiffens and he comes and comes against the satin bed spread. 

“Seven,” he mumbles weakly collapsing weakly into the puddle of cooling come on the bedspread  
too strung out to even care. His ass pulsing with heat and tingling just this side of pain. He would be paying for this in the morning but for now the afterglow was sublime.

He lifts his head looking blearily over his shoulder, “but what about you?”

Morgana smirks and says, “I’ve got plans yet, love,” as Gwaine hears the distinct rattle of chains behind him and turns his face back into the mattress with a grin.

* * *

52\. 

Merlin had heard about the game. Will had whispered it to him at the back of math class. According to Will, this is what all the cool kids do, and if he wanted to be anything other than a pathetic nerd, this was the way to do it.  
However, sitting naked in front of his webcam, Merlin started to doubt the sanity behind this. Giving himself a few quick pulls so that his cock would be slightly full, he took a deep breath and clicked record before he could convince himself not to.  
\--------  
“Shit,” Gwaine cursed, already wanking before the video started. “Isn’t that the Merlin kid?”  
Arthur didn’t say anything. He was too busy trailing his eyes over the very, very naked Merlin that was on his computer screen.  
“He’s brave to show his face,” Lancelot said. “Everyone else chooses to be anonymous about it.”  
“He’s an idiot,” Arthur scoffed. “He probably didn’t even think not to.”  
“Maybe he knows about your little crush,” Gwaine laughs, he’s shameless as his sprawls back on Arthur’s bed and strokes himself, his pants around his ankles.  
Arthur scowls. It’s all Gwaine’s fault anyway. If he hadn’t made a sex tape and make the football team to watch it for “editing tips” then this whole silly sex tape thing wouldn’t have been started. Still, as the Merlin on the screen starts to pick up his pace and a look of sheer pleasure crossed over his face, Arthur felt any anger he felt leave him.  
Unable to wait any longer, he unzipped his jeans and gently pulled out his hard on. Unlike Gwaine, who was happily jerking fast and strong, Arthur wanted to maintain some decorum.  
“Oh,” Merlin, on screen, moaned and shifted his hips in the most sensual way Arthur had ever seen. The lift of the hips and the tongue darting out to moisten his lips sent a stab of desire through Arthur in waves.  
All those times he had seen Merlin in the back classroom, chewing on his pencil. The one time he had sucked on a pen, Arthur had almost come in his pants. He couldn’t stop his hands speeding faster and faster. He slipped them below to fondle his balls in an attempt to slow his pace. It failed as he felt himself on the brink of climax.  
“Look at him,” Gwaine groaned. “Is he? Is he doing what I think he is?”  
“No way!” Lance gasped, much more shocked then turned on (payback for forcing Arthur and Gwaine to sit through all the submitted sex tapes from girls – Arthur was never going to be able to look at Gwen the same way again).  
Arthur was unable to do more than whimper pathetically as Merlin’s fingers, which had been teasing his balls slipped lower. Arthur’s eyes darted like crazy between the fingers which might be entering Merlin and Merlin’s tense face, red and screwed up with concentration.  
There was no doubt Merlin was fingering himself up the ass when his hand started to pump and his mouth went slack.  
Arthur couldn’t last; with a shout of release his spunk hit the computer screen.  
“Aw, man! Pause it! I don’t want to miss the good stuff,” Gwaine complained, scrambling to pause as Merlin’s groans became more frantic and cut off. Gwaine didn’t bother to get a clothe, he simply used his hands to wipe away Arthur’s come, un-paused the movie and used Arthur’s come to make his wanking even smoother.  
Arthur rolled his eyes; Gwaine was gross like that.  
On screen Merlin was coming too. Arthur was belatedly aware of Gwaine climaxing beside him, but his eyes seemed to be fascinated by the way Merlin’s mouth hung and his breath comes out in huffs.  
\-------------  
“Did it work?” Will asked, casually scissoring his fingers up Gwaine’s arse.  
“If those two don’t together after this, we go to my plan,” Gwaine said.  
“Lock them in a room together?” Will asked, kissing Gwaine’s inner thigh.  
“Lock them in a room together naked,” Gwaine reminded him, dragging him up higher. “Naked is very important.”  
Will forgets the plan as they kiss again.

* * *

53\. 

Merlin pulled the straw out of his cup and licked it clean before sticking it back in his coffee drink and beginning to suck. Arthur tried not to stare and to keep the slight adjusting of his trousers subtle. They were at work, for God’s sake, and Merlin was sexually molesting the poor straw where anyone could see.

Coughing softly, Arthur walked next to Merlin’s desk and put the file down.

“Could you take a look at these? My father wants them on his desk before the day is over.”

“Sure,” Merlin said. He looked like he was concentrating fully on whatever programs were open on his computer, but Arthur saw a slight smirk on Merlin’s lips. His boyfriend was one bloody big tease, that’s what he was! “Was there anything else?” Merlin asked innocently, looking up from the screen and smiling. He took several sips of his drink with short sucks and licked his lips. 

Arthur gulped.

“No,” Arthur said. “I’ll just... go. I’ve got things to do.”

Merlin grinned, took another sip of his drink and turned to look at his computer again.

During the lunch, Arthur watched Merlin eat chips and catch crumbs of chocolate cake from his plate with a finger, sucking them in his mouth and moaning appreciatively. Arthur tried to ignore the teasing, but it was proving to be hard (pun not intended but truthful). He also had a feeling some people saw what Merlin was doing and didn’t want to satisfy them with a reaction.

At 4 o’clock, Merlin knocked on his office door.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you coming home now or later?”

“I’ll stay for a while. I need to finish this first,” Arthur answered and looked up from his work.

That was a mistake.

Merlin was looking at him under his eyelashes and biting his bottom lip.

“You won’t be long though, will you?”

Arthur just shook his head and watched Merlin leave the room.

When he _finally_ finished and came home an hour and a half later, Merlin was on the sofa watching some ridiculous sitcom.

“Hush, let me watch this,” Merlin said when Arthur sat beside him and opened his mouth. “Only ten minutes left.”

It was the longest ten minutes of Arthur’s life. Merlin’s eyes were fixed on the telly, but his hand was on Arthur’s thigh petting it suggestively. Just when the credits rolled, Arthur turned towards Merlin and pulled him on his lap.

“You bloody.” One kiss. “Fucking.” Another. “Teasing.” Merlin sucked his tongue in his mouth. “Bastard.”

“I don’t like to call it teasing. I’d rather use the word advertising.”

Merlin slid off Arthur’s lap and between his knees. His hands were on Arthur’s zipper before Arthur had time to fully react.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day. It’s your own fault for making all those fucking rules of proper behaviour at work. I could’ve sucked you off during the lunch hour, but...”

Merlin tugged Arthur’s trousers and pants down and began to kiss the shaft. Arthur groaned.

“...giving me all those glances and still doing nothing about it...” Merlin continued between the kisses and licks. Arthur wanted to tell him to shut up, but fucking hell, his mouth felt good, so he only pushed his hands in Merlin’s hair and tried to make him...

“Oh gods,” Arthur gasped as Merlin took the head of his cock in his mouth and began to suck. Merlin pushed forwards and took as much as he could in his mouth and traced the underside with his tongue. All day Arthur had imagined this; Merlin on his knees between his legs, moving up and down, and taking him a little bit deeper every time.

He felt his cock hit the back of Merlin’s throat. 

“Oh my God, Merlin. I’m close,” Arthur said embarrassingly soon and tried to pull Merlin back, but Merlin only sucked a bit harder. Arthur didn’t even notice Merlin letting his cock go only when he was already coming, so that some of the semen hit Merlin’s face instead of his mouth.

When Arthur opened his eyes again, he found Merlin straddling his lap and grinding his groin against Arthur’s stomach. Arthur helped as much as he could, although he felt weak and hypnotised by his seed on Merlin’s face and Merlin’s lips on his neck.

“Oh wow,” Merlin said after he came all over Arthur’s shirt and business jacket. “So are you still completely opposed to repeating that against your desk some day?”

* * *

54\. 

There isn't enough room in the nook. Merlin's elbow scrapes across the close stone wall as he yanks at Arthur's trousers. He hisses, but doesn't let the hurt stop him – tilts his head and exposes his throat to Arthur's lips, to the slow catch and glide of them as he breathes against Merlin's skin –

“We'll have to be quick –”

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees, and knows how much time they have before the meeting – knows that he shouldn't turn, shouldn't shift and press his arse to Arthur's crotch, roll into him until the heavy weight of his cock is close, so near to where Merlin wants it –

“Merlin,” Arthur groans, gravelly and half irritated. “We don't have time.”

Merlin shifts and rolls again, reaches back to take Arthur's cock in hand and position him – right – there – 

“ _Merlin._ ”

Merlin lets out a low, humourless laugh, gives Arthur a few tight strokes. “We'll be a second,” he says, jaw slack. “Only a few seconds – just –”

“No.” But Arthur isn't moving away, moves instead into the hot clutch of Merlin's hand. “We _can't_. We don't even have any – fucking – oil, you –”

“I'll take care of it,” Merlin says. “I know this thing –” He grasps Arthur tighter, puts one hand on the wall in front of him to brace for the slick push he expects, lets his magic go and –

And.

Oh.

That...was not supposed to happen.

*

Merlin doesn't know if he's ever seen Arthur so angry.

Even a week later he's just as angry as in those first few minutes, after the shock.

“What are we supposed to do?” he demands – shouts – for what must be the thousandth time, the both of them shut up in his chambers, claiming deathly illness.

Merlin pushes his head into his hands, tries to block out Arthur's endless pacing, to breathe through the short bouts of panic. “I don't know,” he groans, hopeless. “It shouldn't have _done_ this. It was only supposed to slick us up – not –”

“Yeah, well it slicked us up, didn't it?” Arthur spits, reddening with fury and the humiliation that creeps upon him whenever he mentions what's taken his cock's place. “Real thorough spell, that one.”

“Arthur, please –”

But Arthur cuts him off with a look.

*

Merlin stays in the antechamber again that night, surrounded by his books, trying to find anything – _anything_ that might tell him what to do.

He feels sick inside, not only because this is his fault but also because the emptiness between his legs is wrong, uncomfortable. And the tender little throbs he feels there when he looks at Arthur – even in their predicament – are disconcerting.

He can't even find the spell, just the one he thought he'd used – the one he'd been excited about upon discovering it. The one that should've been perfect and slicked them and even fucking _cleaned up_ after itself when they were finished –

Merlin sits up quickly, knocks two books to the floor and nearly a candle in his haste.

Maybe if they...

He grabs the book with the slicking spell and flips to the dog-eared page, reads the passage again and – 

Maybe.

*

Arthur's in bed when Merlin pokes his head around the corner, blankets pulled up to his chin, but he's not sleeping.

Merlin shuffles into the room, quiet, and puts a hand on Arthur's mattress before taking a deep breath and climbing up, clamoring over his body.

Arthur turns under him quick as lightning, tries to sit up, but Merlin pins him down and straddles his hips.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks, deadly.

Merlin hushes him with a soft sound, closes his eyes and leans in to nose against Arthur's cheek. “I think I know how to break it,” he whispers, trying to calm.

He rocks down against Arthur – swallows when Arthur gasps – but when he tries to reach low and feel between them, Arthur takes hold of his wrist, teeth bared.

“What are you doing?” he says again.

“Just trust me,” Merlin pleads. “We have to do _something_.”

*

When they start, it's awkward – embarrassing – and Arthur's too tense.

But Merlin tells him to fuck him, flips them over until Arthur's pressed between his legs, eyes wide.

“What - ?”

“Fuck me,” Merlin says again, pulling Arthur forward with calves pressed to his thighs, rolling up into him.

And it gets slick after that, so much wet there's hardly any friction.

They slot into place, press cunts together and rock, until Merlin can feel the magic working, coming as he does.

* * *

55\. 

Gwaine’s been sitting on Merlin’s roof for twenty minutes when the window opens and Merlin climbs out, huddled into the hoodie he must’ve thrown over his pyjamas. 

“Hi,” he says, like he finds people outside his bedroom window in the middle of the night all the time.

“Hi,” Gwaine replies, shuffling over to give Merlin room to sit next to him. “Sorry, I- couldn’t sleep.”

“So you thought you’d sit on my roof all night?” Merlin asks around a yawn. He smiles at Gwaine, lopsided and bemused and so, so sweet. 

“Yeah,” Gwaine says quietly. He hasn’t got the energy for a witty retort, for a joke and a laugh and a tease. He’s just so- tired. “Do you mind?”

“Of course I mind,” Merlin says, and Gwaine’s stomach drops, “it’s freezing out here, you’ll catch your death.”

Gwaine exhales, slowly, and follows Merlin into his room. He stumbles jumping down from the window and swears softly, mindful of Hunith asleep in the next room. 

“Here,” Merlin says, “you can have my bed and-”

“No,” Gwaine says sharply. “Fuck, Merlin, I already- I’m not fucking taking your bed. It’s not like I’d get any use out of it anyway.” He forces himself to smile. “The floor’s fine.”

Merlin looks like he’s going to argue, but then he just sighs and makes Gwaine up a bed on the floor, turns around to let him shed his t-shirt and jeans. The blanket is soft and warm and smells a bit like Merlin, and Gwaine lets himself breathe it in for just a second, just one. 

“Good night,” Merlin whispers, “hope you get _some_ sleep,” and Gwaine echoes the sentiment as he lies back, counting Merlin’s breaths until he’s sure he’s asleep. 

Gwaine must drift off at one point because he jolts back to awareness at the sound of stifled moaning. At first he thinks maybe Merlin’s having a nightmare, but then- oh. 

_Oh_. 

It’s not that kind of moan. It’s not that kind of dream. Gwaine wonders, momentarily, what it is Merlin’s dreaming about to make him make noises like that and has to fist his hands in the blanket. 

No. _No_. He’s not going there. Merlin is one of his closest friends and Gwaine can’t- fantasising about Merlin when he’s jerking off, about Merlin’s perfect hands and perfect mouth, is bad enough. He can’t think about Merlin naked and wanting when Merlin is in _the same fucking room_ as him. That way lies madness, and also failed friendships. 

He rolls over and jams his head under Merlin’s pillow, willing the blood to rush back to his brain where he needs it, and closes his eyes. 

*

He’s awoken a few hours later by the sun streaming in through the window – they forgot to close the curtain after they climbed through, dammit – and he is hard. Like, achingly hard, like, you-were-having-a-really-fantastic-dream-before-you-were-rudely-awoken-by-the-morning hard. Gwaine groans, wondering if he was dreaming about Merlin and if that would be ironic or just pathetic. 

A quick glance at the bed shows Merlin’s still asleep, the jammy bastard, and Gwaine’s hand is in his boxers before he can think about it. He bites his lip, hard, and thinks about getting Merlin to make those noises again, about panting into Merlin’s neck as he jerks him off, about sinking to his knees and taking Merlin’s cock into his mouth, about fingering Merlin open until he’s begging for it, and comes.

* * *

56\. 

Warnings: It may seem like dubcon at first

Merlin shouldered Gwaine through the door and they stumbled into Gwaine's quarters. He kicked the door shut behind him and pushed him across the room. Merlin heard Gwaine groan as he stumbled over brick on the floor. 

"You shouldn't drink so much, Gwaine," Merlin said and pushed Gwaine onto the bed. He let out a startled yelp as he was pulled down with him. They landed with an "omph" as air was forced out of their lungs. Merlin's chin hit Gwaine's shoulder.

"Watch it!" Merlin said as he tried to move off of Gwaine and was nearly elbowed in the face. Merlin was trapped when Gwaine's arm wrapped around him.

"Stay with me," Gwaine whispered and squeezed Merlin closer, "you know you want to."

"Gwaine, you're stinking drunk. Let go," Merlin said as he tried to wrestle out of Gwaine's grasp. Gwaine refused to give an inch and Merlin gasped as their half-hard cocks suddenly aligned. He angled his hips away but Gwaine just brought both of his hands down to grip his arse and pull him back.

"I'm not drunk. That was just a clever ploy to get you here. I've actually had water the past few hours," Gwaine said as he squeezed Merlin's arse, "see? I'm not slurring my words and I think it's quite obvious I want you to stay." Gwaine rocked his hips up to make his point.

"Fuck," Merlin cursed as Gwaine insistently rubbed himself up against Merlin and gripped his arse. Gwaine laughed.

"Patience, Merlin," Gwaine said and kissed Merlin. Merlin opened his mouth to protest but his words were muffled when Gwaine's tongue invaded his mouth and Merlin lost himself in the pleasurable sensation of finally kissing Gwaine.

Gwaine's grip relaxed when he realized Merlin wasn't going anywhere and he pulled Merlin's shirt out of his trousers and rubbed his hands over Merlin's warm skin. Merlin's moan broke the kiss and he pulled away from Gwaine to pull his shirt off completely.

"No time wasted, eh?" Gwaine questioned, but he followed suit and stripped off his own shirt when Merlin glared.

"Pants too," Merlin commanded and began working on his own. He looked up and was surprised to find Gwaine already naked.

"Now who's eager?" Merlin questioned and pushed his pants completely off.

"Both of us, obviously," Gwaine said and shot Merlin his ridiculous grin.

"Shut up," Merlin said and pushed Gwaine back down to sit against the wall, legs spread against the bed.

"Make me," Gwaine teased. Merlin rolled his eyes at him and climbed into Gwaine's lap. Merlin couldn't say who leaned in first, but they were kissing again. Their tongues fought for dominance and Merlin felt the heat pool in his stomach. He pushed his hips down and moaned when Gwaine's hard cock slid against his own.

"May I?" Merlin asked, making vague gestures with his hand towards Gwaine's groin.

"Anything," Gwaine responded and his hips bucked forward as Merlin wrapped his hand around Gwaine's straining cock. He slid the foreskin down Gwaine's shaft and was pleased when the movement resulted in a sucked in breath. 

Merlin smiled to himself and stroked Gwaine a few more times before he stopped. He grabbed the base of Gwaine's cock and slid Gwaine's foreskin up over his cockhead and used his finger to move the loose skin over Gwaine's sensitive skin. Then, he pushed a finger into Gwaine's foreskin and circled it around the head of his cock.

"Fuck, Merlin," Gwaine gasped out. His cock was leaking and the precome was making it easier for Merlin to glide is finger around Gwaine's cockhead.

"Not quite yet, but I promise you'll like this. Hold your cock still," Merlin said. 

He kissed Gwaine's lips softly before he gripped both of their cocks in one of his hands. Merlin stretched down his foreskin and gripped it out of the way at the base of his cock. Then, he aligned their cocks so that the heads met and pulled Gwaine's foreskin up and over Merlin's own cockhead. The both moaned.

Gwaine gasped and let out various curses as Merlin stroked Gwaine's cock and slid his foreskin over Merlin's thicker head. Merlin laughed and kissed Gwaine when Gwaine suddenly came and painted Merlin's cock and stomach. He stroked Gwaine carefully through the orgasm and quickly found his own a few moments later, his hands stroked his cock quickly.

"Where did you learn that, Merlin?" Gwaine asked when he caught his breath.

"I'm the sullied country boy to your drifter. The stretch of your skin feels amazing, doesn't it?" Merlin asked. Gwaine kissed him instead of answering.

* * *

57.

Arthur had honestly never expected this to happen when he’d bet Merlin that the servant couldn’t drink four tankards of The Rising Sun’s strongest mead and then walk in a perfectly straight line all the way back to the castle.

In retrospect, he really should have stipulated that Merlin wasn’t allowed to use magic.

That particular thought slipped away from him as Merlin slid a freezing finger up Arthur’s chest. Using magic again, Arthur noted, before gasping as the finger reached up and circled a nipple. “Cheating,” he breathed, all hopes of maintaining a stoic front having long been stripped away.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t really think you mind.” Merlin smiled and leaned down to give Arthur the gentlest of kisses, so light he could barely feel it and leaving him wanting more as Merlin drew away and returned to his project of driving Arthur slowly insane with just his fingers.

Said fingers were now wandering their way down Arthur’s stomach, dragging over his skin with a light touch that left Arthur on the verge of giggles, just firm enough that they left him panting, open-mouthed, instead.

Merlin looked down at Arthur and smirked a little, then whispered an incantation and Arthur squirmed as Merlin closed his fingers around Arthur’s cock. They tingled, like some of Gaius’ mint concoctions, and the feeling was so unusual Arthur couldn’t decide if he liked it until Merlin began to move his hand up and down the shaft, and then he decided he quite liked it a lot.

Even without the spell Merlin’s fingers were magic, and with it and a very clever little twist at the end of each stroke, Arthur was bucking up into Merlin’s hand in no time. He could feel his climax building with a rush low down in his stomach, just one more stroke, one more…

Merlin pulled his hand away with a smirk. “Ah-ah, not so fast.”

Arthur growled. “Merlin!”

“Oh, hush, I’ll get there soon enough.” Merlin scooted down the bed until it looked for one hopeful moment like Merlin was just going to lean down and take Arthur’s cock in his mouth. Arthur gave a little thrust to encourage this, but Merlin just laughed at him and moved further down. “There’s just one more thing I’d like to try first…”

Arthur couldn’t really see Merlin anymore because of the angle, but he felt Merlin’s lips rest on the inside of his thigh, with a similar tingling effect as his fingers had. Arthur shuddered, and Merlin smiled against his skin before slowly working his way up Arthur’s thigh and then down, back, and Arthur’s eyes grew wide as it became obvious where Merlin’s lips were headed.

Merlin raised his head enough to give Arthur a mischievous smirk, and then his tongue was on Arthur’s hole, and it tingled like his fingers had, and it made Arthur shake.

Merlin pointed his tongue and drew circles around Arthur’s hole, pressing but never entering, working Arthur up until, finally, he reached up with one still tingling hand and wrapped it around Arthur’s cock while pressing his tongue ever so slightly in…

Arthur came with a shout, taken completely by surprise by the force of his orgasm. He shook through it, Merlin keeping his hand working Arthur’s cock until he absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore before moving away.

After a few moments, Arthur finally panted out, "That was still cheating, and I am going to get you back.”

Merlin hummed happily and tried not to let on just how much he was looking forward to it.

* * *

58.

It wasn’t his fault Arthur had gone diving off a particularly steep cliff in the middle of a battle; Merlin had only meant to snatch him up at the last moment.

So he might have panicked a little.

It could have happened to the best of them.

*

‘Merlin,’ Arthur snapped, and Merlin winced, headache throbbing.

‘Oh, God. Go back to sleep. _Please_.’ Then Merlin’s body jerked, and he found himself getting inappropriately intimate with the floor.

It was going to be another long day.

*

The problem with wordless spells was that they were all vague intent, with no precise formula. It made it particularly difficult to cook up an antidote, so to speak.

Merlin needed that antidote. Three days ago, preferably. 

‘Oh, hello, floor, fancy seeing you here. Would you mind getting me a drink? I think I’ll be here for a while.’ 

As it turned out, it was really difficult controlling a body when there were two minds in it. Especially when one of those minds belonged to Arthur Pendragon.

‘Stop whining, Merlin,’ Arthur said inside his head, just as one of the books on the shelf he’d just ran into decided his head looked cosy. 

‘And hello, headache. Yeah, let’s make this a proper feast.’

He sighed.

*

The problem was that Arthur couldn’t let go. He kept trying to correct Merlin’s stance, reaching out for things; speaking when Merlin wasn’t prepared for it.

He refused to surrender control, even for a few moments, and Merlin could feel Arthur’s anger over his helplessness build over the days, bleeding into his own mind. 

Merlin supposed he could understand Arthur’s reluctance, but he preferred not to think of all the memories he’d absorbed in the moment their minds had collided. 

‘I have an idea,’ he thought at Arthur one evening, exhausted, bruised and just beyond caring; he let his hand fall between his legs. He’d missed this, too.

His hand twitched away almost immediately, and Arthur’s non-existent patience seemed to fray further. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Have you lost your mind?’

‘… No, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s lost his’ – Arthur huffed, unamused, the breath puffing out of Merlin’s mouth – ‘but I think we could both do with a bit of relaxing, hm? Consider it a challenge. Let me control my body, and I’ll make sure we both feel good. Just - trust me.’ 

‘This is ridiculous,’ Arthur said after a few moments, but let Merlin move his hand again to palm himself through his breeches. It took a while, what with the tiredness and Arthur being _right there_. And also with Merlin hoping Arthur hadn’t seen the part the part of his memories where he kept the fantasies he used while doing this; they featured Arthur rather a lot.

Well, if he did, Merlin supposed it would just be one more betrayal on his part. He really hadn’t needed to know exactly how Arthur felt after he found out about Merlin’s magic: the acrid taste of his anger, mixed with too much bittersweet hurt. It was no secret to Merlin that Arthur had never entirely forgiven him: not for the magic, apparently, but for the lies. 

_For pretending to be my friend_ , he’d heard, somewhere in the tangle of thoughts, and it made Merlin shake, feel faintly nauseous. He stroked his thigh to banish the memory, felt the fine hairs catch against his palm; lazily teased his balls.

He felt an echo of pleasure from Arthur, and then his hand was gripping more tightly against his will. ‘Arthur,’ he growled, and gained control again, but moments after that his fingers were slipping too eagerly over his belly. 

Arthur’s mind brushed against his; it took Merlin a moment to decipher the silent request for permission. He blinked as his hands slid up, exploring, making his stomach tremble. Arthur pinched a nipple, making them both gasp; then, he did it again.

One moment, Arthur was digging fingers into bruises, and the next, he was gently cradling Merlin’s cock; it was making Merlin’s mind spin. 

When his hand finally started moving, they started fighting for control again, the rhythm dissolving into stutters and jerks, but somehow, it was making Merlin’s toes curl with pleasure.

He laughed, and then Arthur was laughing, too, saying, ‘I do trust you, you know,’ and Arthur felt oddly warm pressing against his mind, calm for a moment, and then the calm shattered and they were both coming, and somehow Merlin ended up on the floor again. 

For once, he didn’t mind.

* * *

59.

 **Warnings:** Crossdressing, feminization, gender stereotypes

**Not Quite The 1950s**

It was the last Monday of the month and Arthur had taken a half-day to be able to ensure that the evening would go flawlessly. For the past 8 months, each one had. The risotto in front of him bubbled with far too much liquid for Arthur’s taste. He cocked his hip to the side, the strings moving again, as the front of the red apron rubbed over his straining cock. He groaned and thought of pressing forward just for a second, for a hint of relief, the pressure of the cool glass of the oven in front of him, but mentally chastised himself. 

Percival would know. He’d be able to tell. And what kind of a housewife would Arthur be if he didn’t wait for his loving husband to get his relief before getting his own pleasure. 

No, Arthur would wait, and when Percival finally decided he’d been good enough and he’d let Arthur come, it would be worth it. Definitely. 

Arthur was so deep in thought he didn't hear the front door open, but he startled as Percival's voice echoed through the house. "Honey, I'm home!" 

Arthur turned down the risotto and ran to the hallway, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. He threw his arms around Percy's neck and leaned up to kiss him, hearing the briefcase drop next to him as Percival's hands smoothed down his back and rested on his arse, kneading. 

“Missed you,” Arthur said when they pulled away, and he nuzzled into Percival’s neck.  
Percival only murmured in his ear, pulling him closer, pushing Arthur’s erection against his thigh. Arthur whimpered, the cockring on for the best part of the day, making him oversensitive. At the same time, against his hip, even through Percy’s pristine suit and his apron, he could feel the outline of his cock. 

Arthur kissed at Percival’s neck, nibbling down to the collar of his shirt, relishing in the way his red lipstick stained the white. 

“Let me take care of you, babe,” Arthur whispered into Percvial’s skin, feeling the full-body shiver pass through Percival’s body right into his own. 

“Yeah.” Hands kneading Arthur’s flesh.

“Be your perfect wife?”

“Yes.”Nails digging into Arthur’s skin.

Arthur slid down the wall of Percival’s body, landing painfully on his knees. The sting distracted him from the pain in his cock, it was good. He wasted no time opening Percival’s trousers and immediately mouthing at his cock through the cotton of his briefs, breath making the fabric damp, the musky flavour and scent going straight to Arthur’s head.

Percival ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair idly, letting Arthur take his time, and Arthur did. He continued mouthing and teasing and rubbing his entire face against the bulge, smearing his lipstick all over. 

“Arthur,” Percival almost growled.

Arthur finally slipped Percival’s cock out and nosed at it, breathed it in, then licked it from base to tip (fingers in his hair tightened), before finally swallowing it down. _Yes._

With Percival’s hands trembling on his head, holding back, Arthur felt powerful as he bobbed his head back and forth, sliding off and licking all around the head before sliding back, hands fondling his balls.

After a particularly filthy lick against the slit, and a loud moan from Percival, Arthur looked up, teary eyes wide open (going for innocent) and nodded at Percival, letting his hands fall to his sides. 

Running his thumb along Arthur’s cheekbone, Percival looked at him like he was the whole world and Arthur had to close his eyes, breathe, so he wouldn’t come (even with the cockring).

Holding his head in place, Percival fucked into Arthur’s mouth, slowly at first, every inch of his cock dragging along Arthur’s tongue, lips, hitting the back of his throat. Soon, his control faltered and his thrusts got wilder, matching the pants and moans coming from above Arthur, as Arthur struggled to breathe, choking. 

“Pull it off,” Percival moaned out, when his thrusts began to stutter and Arthur knew he meant the cockring, so he did, whimpering at the pleasure-pain and the too-close feelings overwhelming him. 

Fucking into Arthur’s mouth a couple more times, gagging him with his cock as he came down his throat, Percival shoved his leg unceremoniously in between Arthur’s legs. It pressed against Arthur’s cock until he humped it and cried out, spit and come dribbling down his chin, his own come staining Percival’s trousers and the apron. 

As Percival’s fingers massaged his scalp, Arthur thought everything was perfect.

Except the risotto.

* * *

60.

**A Certain Reputation**

 

“Well, it’s just…you have a certain… _reputation_ on campus and I was hoping you might...I mean, several sources say…that you’re very talented…with your mouth.” Merlin could hardly believe that _Arthur Pendragon_ was standing before him stammering and blushing.

“I’ve been accused of having a big gob before but nobody’s ever described it as a _talent_.”

“No! I mean…Iheardyougivereallygoodhead.”

The blurred words took a minute to make sense then Merlin’s jaw dropped and a flush crawled up _his_ neck. He wasn’t embarrassed though, he was angry!

“So you figured you’d just hunt me down and demand a blow-job?”

“No! No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what?”

Looking Merlin square in the eye, Pendragon took a deep breath. 

“I want you to give me lessons.”

Merlin choked.

“Lessons? In giving head? From _me_? I never even knew you were gay!”

“I’m not, I’m bi and well…I just haven’t quite gotten the hang of it, alright?” He sounded so vulnerably defensive that Merlin softened. 

“Alright.”

“Alright? You’ll teach me?” 

He sounded so eager, Merlin laughed. Like he'd turn down a chance to get _those_ pouty, pink lips wrapped around his cock! Merlin would satisfy his curiosity about who’d talked up his oral skills later. Right now he had lessons to give. 

Nodding, he flung an arm around Arthur’s shoulders

“Yeah, we can start now, my flatmate won’t be back till midnight.”

***

Thirty minutes later Merlin was panting instructions that hardly seemed needed.

“Good now…ugh…twist your hand one way and your mouth the oth _er_! Yes, that!”

Arthur’s mouth was hot-wet-slick and felt amazing around Merlin’s cock. Perhaps he’d missed some advanced techniques but he definitely had the basics down pat.

“More spit, yeah, alternate…twist…slide, oh! You…ugh… got it!”

Tongue sliding everywhere, twining around the straining flesh of Merlin’s cock, teasing the slit and rubbing flat and hard against the notch below the head, Arthur let hot saliva drip down over his fist, lubricating Merlin’s shaft and sliding deliciously over his smoothly shaven balls. Nudging a questioning finger against Merlin’s anus had him gasping his affirmative.

A moistened digit slowly worked into Merlin’s arse and slid around until it brushed against Merlin’s sweet-spot. He couldn’t help jerking his hips and driving his cock deeper down Arthur’s throat. The blond gagged and Merlin pulled back.

He panted, “We’ll leave deep-throating for another day, eh?” 

Eyes watering, Arthur continued to stroke Merlin’s prostate while he twisted lips and fist around Merlin’s swelling prick. Hips lips were straining around Merlin’s thickness, saliva running down his chin, over his hand and dripping off his elbow as he flawlessly followed directions. Merlin’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life but he knew this lesson was about to swiftly end.

“Arthur, I’m…you’d better pull…”

But instead of stopping Arthur drove his mouth further down Merlin’s length and just sucked harder. Screaming, hands fisting in golden hair, Merlin exploded. His dick pulsing repeatedly, he poured his release straight into the back of Arthur’s mouth. Merlin moaned again, feeling him swallow. He expected Arthur to pull back but he continued to suck gently at Merlin’s softening flesh. Eventually, Merlin had to _push_ him away when it became apparent Arthur wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

“Please! Too sensitive! Arthur! Stop!” He was giggling but pleasure was bordering on agony when Arthur finally released his cock with slow sucking slide that ended in an obscene “pop!”

Merlin flopped back on the bed and Arthur crawled up to lay his face on Merlin’s heaving abdomen. 

“ _You_ , my friend, are a fast learner.”

Grinning, Arthur replied, “Mmmm…and rumor was right.”

“How would you know? Didn’t suck _your_ cock.”

Arthur raised his head and grinned at Merlin.

“Yeah…that was only part of the rumor. Honestly, I was more interested in the rest of it.”

Black eyebrows rose. “Do tell?”

“I heard you had a big, fat cock and the sweetest jizz that ever shot across a tongue. All resources agreed on this point.”

“So…you weren’t out for lessons then.”

Arthur blushed but his grin grew sly.

“I figured I _might_ pick up a thing or two…”

“But?”

“Really, I just wanted to get my mouth round that cock of yours and maybe also get to fill my hands with that sweet little arse. Forgive me?”

Eyeing Arthur’s own impressive erection, still straining against his belly, Merlin smiled, spread his legs and canted his hips in obvious invitation.

“I’ll forgive you…but only if you let me give you some lessons on how to fuck a horny, little hole, like this one.”

“Deal!”

* * *

61.

“Yeah?” Gwaine asks, voice hoarse. “Yeah, Arthur?”

Arthur nods, sweat breaking out on his brow. He hikes his legs up, feet touching his arse. He looks up at the ceiling, avoiding Gwaine’s eyes, not aroused enough to be comfortable being this – open. 

Gwaine strokes his thigh. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs, and Arthur chokes on his gasp. 

“Get on with it.” Arthur grinds out, impatient and shaky under Gwaine’s gaze. 

The click of the lid of the lube is loud even over their heavy breathing. 

Gwaine’s fingers are a slick tease against his arsehole. Arthur grunts and Gwaine’s other hand holds him steady. The first finger is uncomfortable for a few seconds.

“Breathe,” Gwaine says, and Arthur lets out a long breath, relaxing into the bed. The second finger is easier. 

Gwaine crooks his fingers, rubbing Arthur’s prostate, making him writhe a little. Arthur loses track of when the next finger is inserted, too busy focusing on the hot sparks of arousal shooting up his spine. 

Arthur grunts at the bright, sharp pain when another finger is added. Gwaine mutters something soothing, stroking his thigh. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” Gwaine says, shifting carefully to place a kiss on Arthur’s overheated skin. “You look so good, all stretched around me.” Arthur whimpers. He feels so full already, his muscles clenching around Gwaine’s fingers.

“You ready for more?” 

Arthur nods, licking his lips. He arches and groans as Gwaine’s fingers _drags_ against his skin when he pulls out achingly slowly. Arthur’s cock twitches desperately, and it’s all Arthur can do not to wrap his hand it. He doesn’t want to come yet. 

Gwaine adds more lube – his whole hand is now shiny and slick – and Arthur swallows what would be an embarrassing whimper.

Gwaine looks up at him and smiles, leaning up. Arthur meets him for a kiss. Gwaine kisses sloppy and urgent, groaning desperately into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur feels Gwaine’s cock slide against his leg, sticky-slick. 

“You still want to do this?”

“Yes, yes, come on,” Arthur says. Gwaine nods and moves back. He pushes three fingers in, and Arthur’s head falls back onto the pillow. He presses another one in. 

“Fuck, fuck. Gonna put my thumb in now. Arthur-” Gwaine groans and pulls out again. The next press in hurts, Arthur can feel tears prick the corners of his eyes. He bites his lip, muffling a grunt. 

“It’s ok, babe,” Gwaine breathes and Arthur would hit him under any other circumstances, but right now it’s all he can do to keep himself from trembling. 

He does moan as Gwaine pushes in deeper. The pressure is almost unbearable, until it isn’t any more.

“That’s it, you’ve got my whole hand. Fuck, fuck.”

Arthur can barely hear Gwaine over the rushing in his ears. He’s – he’s not sure what he’s feeling right now, but his cock is hard and desperate. 

Gwaine shifts his fingers and press against Arthur’s prostate and Arthur arches, mouth falling open in a silent scream. It’s too much and not enough and he tugs on his cock. 

His vision whites out as he comes. When he comes back, he’s panting at the ceiling. Gwaine is groaning, shoving his dick against Arthur’s hip. Arthur shudders as Gwaine comes, hot fluid dripping on his hip.

* * *

62.

Joining the circus was the best thing that ever happened to Gwaine's sex life. 

It's true, he never did get a chance to shag the implausibly beautiful magician who'd first inspired him to join. And clowning isn't exactly the best way to convince strangers of his manly prowess. With these wages he can't afford to drink or party like he used to, and he can't keep up any kind of normal relationship when they never stay in the same town for more than a week. 

Fuck normal relationships, that's what Gwaine has to say about that. Fuck normal, period. He wouldn't trade these parties for a hundred of the one-night-stands he had before.

They say back when Arthur's father was in charge he put all kinds of restrictions on employee behavior. But Arthur's a performer himself, and he understands the need to blow off steam after spending all day with the crowds and the lions. As long as it's legal and the customers don't find out, he says, you're free to get your freak on. God knows what he and the magician and the business manager get up to in that trailer every night, but if their smug smiles are anything to go by they're getting pretty freaky as well.

"They're taken," Arthur's scary sister the fortuneteller said. "That's forever love, I learned the hard way. But don't assume it means the end for you."

Merlin's sweet, pretty assistant came on to him that first night, and Gwaine assumed going to bed with her would give them both some comfort. Looking over his bites and bruises the next morning, he knew he'd been wrong but he wasn't the least bit sorry.

Freya's regular squeeze is Elena, who's just about as sweet and awkward and disgusting in the daily sideshow as she is at night. In front of a crowd of strangers, she swallows live frogs; for her good friends, she'll swallow Percival's cock, and then she'll take another one at the same time. Sometimes Leon, Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine all take turns, squeezing their dicks in next to Percy's while Elena sucks and snorts with laughter, and Freya whoops and cheers.

That's the closest he's come to being with Elyan so far.

And you'd think, after that, knowing _that intimately_ that Elyan's relationship with Percy isn't exclusive, you'd think he'd have the nerve to ask, or maybe just slap him on the ass or flirt with him the way Gwaine does with _every other living thing_. But there's something about this guy.

Despite all the physical closeness, and despite all the other wonders he's seen (and shagged) in the past few months, he still has trouble thinking of Elyan as a creature of this world.

Gwaine still holds his breath like the suckers in the audience every time he watches the acrobats. The part where Aithusa lifts Elyan above his head with one arm, and Elyan bends both his legs behind his head, folding himself in an elegant, impossible knot… God, Gwaine can't get it out of his head. Sex with a contortionist sounds like the setup for a bad joke, but sex with Elyan is all he can think about, it's more than he can dream of.

In the private show, Percy sits next to Elyan on the stage and keeps a steady hand on his shoulder while Elyan lifts his knees up by his ears, leans forward, and fits his gorgeous mouth around his own cock. 

Gwaine always thought a sixty-nine was awkward – even with someone as hot as Lancelot, the effort of holding their positions kept him from getting much pleasure out of the experience. But Elyan makes this twisted party trick look as natural as everything else he does, as comfortable as Gwaine is when he jerks off alone. Gwaine's hard, elated and miserable as he watches the muscles move in Elyan's long thighs, watches his cheeks hollow and his head bob. Elyan's got everything he could ever want, and Percival besides. What does he need another cocksucker like Gwaine for?

"A kiss," says Morgana, making him jump. When the fuck did she get that close?

"What?"

"Don't assume. Offer. Ask."

Elyan's working harder now, ready to bring himself off, and Gwaine imagines everyone else away, thinks of Percy's hand on his shoulder and Elyan's tongue in his mouth, gentle and quiet and bitter with cum. One of these nights he'll offer, he'll ask. Because the circus is like that, it's where dreams come true.

* * *

63.

"Are you nervous?" Merlin asks against the sharp curve of Arthur's shoulder blade.

Arthur shakes his head, but the tension in his back belies him. He relaxes slightly when Merlin kisses him, then arches up to keep the contact between them when Merlin draws away. 

"Shh… you've wanted for this for so long, and it's going to be good. It's going to be _so_ good." Merlin touches his lips to the nape of Arthur's neck and nuzzles at the soft, blond hair. If he had any predilection for pet names, here's where he'd whisper 'sweetheart' and 'prince' into Arthur's skin, here's where he'd tell the man how dear he is and how very much Merlin wants to please him. 

The words always catch in the middle of his chest, though, half-uttered and almost dangerous, as if saying them would create something new and named between them. 

Merlin's not ready for names. 

But this -- Arthur spread out vulnerable and nervous, excited and aroused despite the tightness in the set of his shoulders -- he's ready for this. Merlin kisses down the length of Arthur's spine, counting every delicate dip and divot, and pauses when he reaches the base. 

"Are you -- oh…" Arthur's voice trails off into a sigh. One notch of tension eases, then another, and Arthur sighs once more to feel Merlin rest his cheek at the small of Arthur's back. 

"I am. I will." There's soft hair here, too, almost downy and white, and Merlin nuzzles gently. "Does that tickle?"

"A little, yeah." Arthur twitches, laughs, and eases some more. 

Merlin cups one hand around Arthur's arse and gives him a little nudge up off the mattress. Arthur complies, but there's a moment, a trembling, and hesitation that Merlin knows isn't uncertainty. 

"All right?" He asks, anyway, and strokes the back of Arthur's thighs. 

That earns Merlin another tremble. Arthur's already hard, hard enough that the tip of his cock curves towards the flat of his belly. He inhales and exhales through his nose, like he's collecting every second and every sensation. When he pushes back against the hand on his arse, Merlin knows Arthur's ready. 

He skims the palms of his hands down Arthur's sides and kneels up behind him. For a moment, Merlin just breathes against Arthur's skin, mouths over the curve of his arse, noses into the crease where it meets the top of his thigh. The touch is light enough to make Arthur whimper; he nudges back against Merlin again and gives such a small, needy noise that warmth flutters in Merlin's chest.

Cupping his palms against Arthur and sliding his thumbs up to part his arse cheeks, Merlin leans in to lick wetly over the hole. He's so open, so open and vulnerable and needy, that Merlin gets perilously close to muttering stupid endearments and to kissing promises. He licks over the small, tight hole again, getting Arthur wet and slick, and flicks the end of his tongue over and over the same spot.

Arthur's breathing comes ragged and loud while Merlin eats him out; he's run out of pleading words and whimpers. He's running out of strength, too, and Merlin can feel him shudder as he tongues deeper inside Arthur. 

The fluttering goes right through Merlin again and tightens deep inside his chest, reaches down to the pit of his stomach and the ends of his limbs. Everything Arthur does -- nudging against Merlin's mouth, letting out needy sighs and groans, quivering when Merlin kisses his spit-slick opening -- makes Merlin want to take himself in hand and rub his cock against Arthur. Anywhere against Arthur, anywhere he can bring himself off all hot and messy and fast. 

Then Arthur gives a cry that sounds as if it's pulled out from somewhere deep and secret inside him and all Merlin wants is to feel Arthur come for him. He has to shift away to reach around and stroke Arthur's cock, but after that it doesn't take much. Arthur's orgasm comes over him in a mad rush and he spills eagerly into Merlin's hand. 

And Merlin, who still can't stop the words from snagging in his chest, curls himself against Arthur as he pants out his climax sprawled on the bed. With his face buried in Arthur's shoulder, Merlin rubs his cock against Arthur's thigh, and imagines all the names and endearments slipping from his lips as he comes.

* * *

64.

"Have you ever gotten a blowjob?" Merlin asks innocently, shining his torch up at the gentle slope of the top of their tent. They're camping for the week, celebrating the end of college and taking one last best-mates-for-life trip before they go their separate ways for uni.

"Of course I have. Don't be ridiculous. Haven't you?"

"Well..." Merlin's high pitch gives him away.

Arthur props himself up on his elbows. "Seriously?"

Merlin shrugs. "What's it like?"

The truth is that Arthur enjoys receiving oral sex about as much as he enjoys giving it, which is not at all. The girls who have gone down on him have been so awkward and unsure and nervous that it usually takes a lot of effort for Arthur get off from it.

"I don't know," Arthur says blandly.

"We could practise," Merlin says, his voice low. "On each other, I mean."

Arthur groans. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh. Right. Well... we could practise anyway."

Arthur shifts up on his elbows again. "Merlin, why are you trying to suck my cock?"

"I don't know, it just seems like it could be a good idea," Merlin says, the words jumbled closely together.

"You're not queer, are you?" Arthur asks, mostly because it seems like it needs to be asked.

"I might be."

Arthur flops back down. "Jesus, Merlin."

"I couldn't think of another way to tell you," Merlin says, his voice high and anxious.

"You thought offering to suck me off was a good way to come out?"

"Erm... apparently."

"So you didn't actually want to know what it's like to go down on a girl."

"Well... no. Not exactly."

"You are actually insane," Arthur complains. He scrubs his hands over his face and tries to wrap his mind around the fact that Merlin is gay.

"I'm not insane, I just want you to let me suck your cock."

"Merlin!" Arthur chokes out, shock and nervousness thrilling down his spine. His cock actually _twitches_ and Arthur can feel himself going red.

Merlin sits up and gives Arthur an endearingly imploring look. "Please?"

Arthur tries to think of a reason - any reason - to say no, but all he can think about is the way his cock is somehow already dripping precome.

"Fine, just - just get it over with," he rasps.

Merlin crawls out of his sleeping bag and then unzips Arthur's, pushing the top flap aside and settling himself between Arthur's legs. He runs his hands firmly up and down Arthur's thighs, then makes quick work of taking off Arthur's pants.

Merlin's lips quirk in a small, knowing half smile that is inanely familiar. Arthur whimpers, then bites down on his lip to keep himself from making any more embarrassing noises.

Merlin leans down and Arthur holds his breath, ready and waiting. The first touch of Merlin's tongue is light and teasing, but not in a good way. It's hesitant and ticklish and nowhere near enough.

Arthur exhales and the tension drains out of him. He fists his sleeping bag, wondering if he is _ever_ going to enjoy this.

Merlin sinks his mouth over Arthur's entire erection and pulls off slowly, his cheeks hollowed and his tongue doing something absolutely wicked.

Arthur digs his finger into Merlin's hair and tilts his head back, straining and gasping for air. He's never felt _anything_ like this before, not even when he's positively drowning his own cock in lube and fucking into his fists with reckless abandon. Merlin's mouth is _hot_ and there is _suction_ and a _tongue_. It's the most painfully blissful sensation that Arthur can even imagine, but then Merlin's fingers tease the spot just behind his balls and it's _more_ than he can handle.

Arthur comes with a shocked wail, his body arching off the ground as heat explodes behind his eyes and throbs in his cock and shoots through every vein.

Merlin sits up and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He avoids looking at Arthur, but Arthur doesn't want to waste time being awkward. Arthur pushes himself up and shoves Merlin down in the same movement. Merlin makes a surprised sound and Arthur grins as he peels off Merlin's pants.

"It's my turn," he says thickly, wrapping a hand around Merlin's already leaking cock.

"You're straight," Merlin says, arguing pointlessly as Arthur swipes his thumb over the head of Merlin's cock.

Arthur leans down for a kiss and Merlin immediately arches against him, grabbing onto the back of his neck. "Guess again."

* * *

65.

He wakes in the woods, naked, placing one bloodied foot in front of the other like a babe just learning to walk. He has no idea where he is, _who_ he is. He is lost, alone.

The drum of hoofbeats approaching is no louder than his own heart.

~

Lord Godwin is a duke and his house a castle, thick walls and bustling interior. The wanderer is not treated as a madman but as a lost hero. Godwin gifts him with food, clothing, a room. A sword, armor. A blank, white shield.

The first time he takes the sword in hand, he knows that Godwin was right. The callouses of his palm fit perfectly. He is a man who has lived by sharp edges and grown hardened from them. Somehow, he is disappointed in himself.

In the evenings, his rescuer, Lady Elena, dines with them in her father's hall. Others are there - lords, councilors, knights with crests on their shields. Yet she asks him to sit at her right hand. He, the nameless knight from a foreign land.

The whispers are soft, but he can hear them all the same.

~

In dreams he sees faces achingly familiar, and knows them for people he has lost. He also dreams of cold, of water, of fire. Those dreams he pushes back. The faces he calls after, but with names he can never remember by daylight.

Still, one of those faces that gifts him with his name. "Lancelot," says an earnest young man with bright blue eyes. "Lancelot," like he is begging for something.

Lancelot wakes with his own name ringing in his ears.

~

The Lady Elena tends him, though he is not ill. Not in body - at least not once his feet healed. Heart and mind are less easily cured.

When he wakes she is often already there, puttering about his room. He cannot tell what she hopes to do - she has the air of a practical woman but none of the skills. Her hands often flutter, uncertain. She walks carefully, as though afraid to stumble, but he finds her only slightly clumsy. She is, he thinks, hiding a part of herself from him.

He cannot blame her.

So he often wakes from dreams of lost friends to hear her humming and watch her wander his rooms, airing things that don't need airing and kicking up dust trying to clean. Perhaps he should dislike the invasion of his privacy, but he feels so little sense of self yet that he isn't sure he cares. Or perhaps since her face was the first one he saw, he finds the sight of it comforting.

~

Three months later, he competes in the annual tournament, his shield still white. He defeats all comers, but when they hand the purse and golden chain to him, he carries them to her and offers them up.

She laughs out loud before the whole assembled crowd, head thrown back. Then she tells him she doesn't run an inn, but he may buy her a horse if he wishes.

He does. She likes that much better.

~

A week after the tournament, he wakes to her humming voice, a low thrum of pleasure in his veins. Still half asleep, he wallows in the sound, in the feeling of _safety_ and _home_ and _want_.

"Good morning," she says.

He opens his eyes slowly, but she is not looking at his face. She is looking further down his body, a half-smile on her face.

His blush feels like a bonfire.

~

" _Oh,_ ," he gasps, and "oh!" He feels stripped bare - a man of flesh and blood, writhing beneath her strong hands. Her tongue peeks out between her lips as she tries to find the perfect way to touch him that will drive him absolutely mad.

He does not tell her she has already won that battle.

She shifts down, pushing at her undergarments until they puddle at her waist, leaving her ample bosom bare. Carefully, she cups her hands around her softness and gathers him up between. She moves slowly at first, up and down, while he stares in either awe or shock, he cannot tell which. Then, as in everything, she begins to rush.

He sees the head of his own manhood emerging from between her breasts over and over, purple against her pale skin. He sees her grin of triumph, feels the soft swell of her encasing him, and with a gasp he throws his head back, utterly undone.

She laughs again, wild and free.


	4. Group A (clean)

1.

Merlin’s eyes rolled back into his head and he groaned, the sound echoing in the empty gymnasium, as Arthur scraped his teeth against his neck and fucked Merlin’s thigh. “Fu-u-uck, Arthur,” Merlin cried and tried everything he could to get better friction to his own aching cock, but somehow Arthur kept his thigh just out of reach. “Not fucking fair,” he panted and felt Arthur’s smirk against his throat.

“Don’t fucking care,” Arthur moaned into his skin, while one of his hands skimmed down Merlin’s side, fingers digging into his hip bone. “You deserve it.”

Merlin wanted to know exactly how that was the case, but Arthur’s tongue swept into his mouth and tangled with his, stopping the protest in his throat. 

It wasn’t safe for them to be like this, out in the open, practically fucking at the top of the bleachers where anyone could come in and catch them. Not that Merlin minded, of course. He’d had his eye on Arthur since freshman year, knowing he was bi-sexual, but sure he had no interest in Merlin. To be honest, they were barely acquaintances, so Merlin was more than a little surprised when Arthur had cornered him after school on his way to the track, stalked him up the bleachers, and pinned him down without warning.

Arthur fucked his tongue into his mouth, swallowing down every one of Merlin’s moans, and only stopped when they were both desperate to breathe.

He moved his hand from Merlin’s hip, pressed it onto the front of his jeans. Merlin’s cock strained against the fabric, begged to be touched, _fucked_. But Arthur only squeezed gently every now and then, teasing.

“Saw you with Gwaine,” Arthur growled, nibbling on Merlin’s hypersensitive earlobe. Merlin didn’t know why, but Arthur sounded jealous. That didn’t make sense. He and Gwaine were just friends, not that Arthur should care. He shuddered and tightened his arms around Arthur’s neck, trying to get moremoremore. “You don’t play by the rules.”

“Wh-what?” Merlin stuttered when Arthur’s tongue snaked into his ear and licked. “R-rules?”

Merlin could feel the precome soaking through his boxers. Fuck. “You’re cross country,” Arthur said, his hips languidly rubbing into Merlin’s thigh, his breath stuttering into Merlin’s ear. “Cross country doesn’t _associate_ with baseball. It’s the rule.”

If Merlin had any sense left in him, he’d have rolled his eyes in exasperation - because _really_? This was about high school sports _politics_? - but that was when Arthur slipped the tips of his fingers down Merlin’s jeans and flicked the slit of his leaking cock. Involuntarily, his body arched into the touch and Arthur pulled back, tutting.

“Oh no,” Arthur said, his thumb outlining Merlin’s cock through his jeans again. “You need to learn the rules, Merlin. You want to cross the line, then you go straight to the top. Team Captain.” Arthur flashed him a cocky grin and okay, Merlin had had enough.

With a growl, Merlin found the strength and momentum to push Arthur - who was easily fifty pounds heavier than him - off of him. Then he used his quick reflexes to clamber on top of him, knees either side of his hips. Arthur looked shocked and turned on all at once and Merlin found that ridiculously fucking hot.

“I’ll show you the rules,” Merlin smirked and then pressed his groin down into Arthur’s. They both let out a moan - Merlin’s choked and Arthur’s loud - before Merlin started thrusting his hips in earnest. Fully clothed, sweat dripping down their brows and mouths open in pleasure, Merlin rode Arthur like a fucking horse, grasping and reaching for the finish line he knew wasn’t far off.

“So fucking hot,” Arthur managed to choke out between thrusts and Merlin was inclined to agree - Arthur’s hair messy, lips swollen and chest heaving - fucking hot. “Always wanted you.”

And that was fucking brilliant news to Merlin.

“Close,” he said, breathless. “Gonna come,” he said and when Arthur slid his hand down the back of Merlin’s jeans, a finger stroking his hole, Merlin gasped and came hard, Arthur’s name tumbling from his lips like a prayer.

Arthur immediately followed after, his hips jerking, arms coming up to pull Merlin down for a sloppy kiss.

When they broke apart, Merlin smirked lazily down at Arthur. “I think it’s time for a rules change, don’t you?”

Arthur smirked back. “Haven’t you guessed? I never play by the rules, Merlin.”

* * *

2\. 

“You’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

“ _Arthur._ ”

“Christ. You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about ripping your clothes off, shoving you into the mattress, and fucking you until you can’t walk.”

“Charming.”

“Admit it, Merlin: the thought of me fucking you senseless turns you on.”

“Only because I haven’t gotten laid in four whole weeks!”

“That’s because you flew to fucking Canada to do some stupid research about lake water. Who the hell goes to Canada to do research on fucking _lake water_?!”

“At least I don’t spend my work days listening to Uther drone about finances. It’s a miracle you haven’t jumped off a cliff yet, I can barely deal with Sunday dinners.”

“Talking of Sunday dinners, they’re unbearable without you.”

“I’m sure Uther is delighted.”

“Of course. Morgana isn’t best pleased in your absence, though.”

“What can I say? I’m just that important.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Merlin.”

“You’re the one who wants to pound my arse into the bed.”

“Please don’t remind me. I’m so horny right now.”

“I’ve wanked off with one hand on my cock and the other up my arse so many times now, I’ve lost count.”

“...”

“You’re wanking to that image, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“I can hear the hitch in your voice, you prat.”

“I can’t help how much of a slut you are. I bet you imagined your fingers were my cock, didn’t you?”

“Except my fingers are nowhere near as big and long. It isn’t quite the same.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you stupid when you come home next week.”

“You’d better. Until then, I’ll just keep finger-fucking myself, imagining you fucking me and telling me how much you love my arse.”

“ _Jesus._ You know I do, baby.”

“Are you still touching yourself?”

“I’m not going to deign to answer such a pointless question.”

“Good.”

“Have you taken your cock out yet, Merlin? Started touching yourself, imagining it’s me?”

“Way ahead of you, Arthur.”

“Fuck, I want to touch you so badly.”

“Another week, and then you get to touch all you want. Until then, use your imagination. I’ll help.”

“I never thought we’d resort to phone sex.”

“I never thought we’d be apart for more than a week. Celibacy doesn’t suit me.”

“God, you’re such a slut.”

“And you love it.”

“Fuck _yes_.”

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“You sucking my cock so hard you’re almost gagging on it.”

“Jesus, Arthur.”

“You’re making it so wet, ready for me to shove you down and fuck you.”

“And then I’m fingering myself, opening my arse up—”

“My fingers too; we’re both fucking you slowly, and your arse is so tight, so hot and wet and ready for my cock.”

“Arthur, I want you, I want you to fuck me so much.”

“I want you to ride me, so you straddle me and put my cock in your arse.”

“I’m sinking down on it, fast, and you’re telling me how good I am.”

“You’re fucking amazing, baby.”

“And then I ride you, bouncing my arse on your cock, and everything is so _wet_.”

“You’re arching your back and crying my name because I’m hitting your prostate every time, and it feels amazing. Put your fingers in your arse, Merlin, go on – imagine that it’s my cock, fucking you hard.”

“Arthur, you feel so fucking good. I want more. I want you to fuck me harder.”

“I shove you down and then I’m fucking you, I’m riding your arse, I’m giving you the best fuck of your life. Every thrust is harder and deeper and faster.”

“Yes, yes, Arthur, don’t stop, please—”

“You’re touching yourself, looking into my face, screaming at me to fuck you, how huge my cock is in your arse, how you want me to fill you up, you _whore_.”

“I’m a dirty little slut for you, Arthur, you can take whatever you want, just fuck me!”

“I spread your legs more, and the headboard’s banging, and you’re telling me you’re close.”

“So close, I want to come, you’re going to make me come, _Arthur_ —”

“So I fuck into you so hard, you scream.”

“I’m coming, god, I’m coming—”

“Merlin, you’re so hot, fucking hell—”

“Come on Arthur, come with me, come in my arse so you can lick yourself out afterwards, and then kiss me so I can taste it, I want to feel you inside of me for days—”

“Merlin, _Merlin_ , fuck yes, _yes_ , oh _baby_.”

* * *

3\. 

“...My character’s superpower is his sperm.” Merlin stares down at the script he’s been given in disbelief, as if he’s waiting for the words to transform into something that’s not utterly ridiculous. “His. _Sperm_.”

The director huffs, as if Merlin has just insulted the next cinematic masterpiece, and not some porn with high production values. It's in the middle of a metaphor comparing virility to Samson and his hair--which doesn't even make _sense_ \--that Merlin agrees to take the part. He needs the money after all.

*

"Halt, evil scum! I, Sperman--"

"Cut!"

Merlin scowls. Once again, it's not the director that's stopped filming, but Merlin's prat of a co-star. Arthur Penn is fit as hell, but any attraction Merlin felt towards him when they met left the instant he opened his mouth. "What's the matter _now_?"

"Have you even read the script?" Arthur smirks, crossing his arms. "You can read, can't you?"

Merlin usually can tolerate anyone, but Arthur's condescending attitude is grating on his nerves. "Of course, you pompous--"

The director chooses that moment to send everyone on break, and Merlin seethes as he plops down in his chair. "Who does that guy think he is?"

"...You mean, you've never heard of Arthur before?" Gwen asks, pausing in the midst of retouching his make-up. She seems too sweet and innocent to be involved with the adult entertainment business, but she's been working behind the scenes for years. "Some call him 'the Prince of Porn'."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Great. I knew he was an ass, just not a royal one."

"He's not that bad, just...dedicated." Gwen bites down on her bottom lip, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "...You should really watch some of his work to understand."

*

Later that night, Merlin decides to look up some of the videos Arthur has previously starred in. Not that he expects his opinion to change, he's just curious if Arthur is really as good as people claim.

"Royal Ransom" has the plot one would expect: As a prince, Arthur wants to escape the dungeon he’s imprisoned in, but he needs to gain favor from the dungeon master. And of course, that means only one thing.

Merlin has watched so much porn that the actions just seem technical to him now; the typical insert Tab A into Slot B. But as he watches Arthur get down on his knees, Merlin's cock twitches to attention. The camera catches the defiance in Arthur's eyes as his jailer rubs his cock over those pink, plump lips before Arthur opens his mouth.

"...Holy shit," Merlin whispers as the dungeon master shoves the entire thing in, and Arthur just _takes_ it.

Merlin's own cock grows painfully hard fast, and he gives it a quick stroke as his eyes remain fixed on the laptop screen. This must be what Gwen was talking about: Arthur is acting like he's disgruntled royalty, forced to kneel for his freedom. But the way he moans around the cock forced down his throat, hollowing out his cheeks and swirling his tongue, that's _real_.

Arthur is suddenly flipped so he's on his hands and knees, and the shot zooms in as two fingers are pumped into his ass. He must have pre-lubed, because he just thrusts back as he tugs at his own erection.

The idea of replacing those fingers with his own tongue, opening Arthur up until he screams for more, is what pushes Merlin over the edge.

"Fuck!" he shouts as he comes all over his stomach, thinking he might have been hasty in judging Arthur after all.

*

They're already supposed to be on set, filming the next scene. But one look at Arthur bending over, the spandex suit molding to the curves of his ass, and Merlin has to excuse himself to the restrooms before he comes in his costume.

He never expects Arthur to follow, or lock the door behind them.

"What are you--" Merlin is cut off as Arthur crushes his mouth against his, moaning when Arthur pins him against the tile wall.

"Figured you could use some extra rehearsal," Arthur says, palming at Merlin’s straining erection through the fabric. “Though, you better not be faster than a speeding bullet.”

“...T-that’s _Superman_ , you ass!” Merlin stammers as he shamelessly ruts against Arthur’s hand, his cock already leaking with pre-come.

Arthur just chuckles as he nips at Merlin’s earlobe. “Prove it.”

* * *

4\. 

The bus was just pulling from the stop as he walked up to it, spraying puddles onto the sidewalk as it stopped at a red light just a hundred feet down the road. Arthur leaned against the dirty, scratched plexiglass of the stop, studied the times and walked back out into the rain and hailed a cab home. Raindrops pattering against the windows, he opened the file with his case notes, a few photos he hadn't yet made sense of and tried to tune out the jabber of the cab driver talking about the Olympics and the lanes on the M4.

A journalist had offered him a few grand for a bit of information on this case down the bistro at the corner today as they'd shared a smoke under the narrow marquise. "We're talking a page three story, page five if you can't make much of it." He'd declined. Taken the coffee and the smoke and walked back around to his office and sat at his desk until much too late. They'd have a few more dying at this rate.

His flat was dark. He slid the file on the kitchen table, got himself a beer from the fridge and only then turned on the light. He got a good look at his own reflection, a better look at Gwen in her nightshirt standing in the doorway behind him.

"You're still here," he said. Down on the table the murdered women stared up at him with gruesome knife wounds and dead eyes. "He must be missing you by now."

Gwen flinched and brushed her hair back, but then padded into the kitchen on bare feet and walked up behind him, slid her arms around him and kissed at the back of his neck. The rain still splattered against the window.

"He's out tonight."

"Ah." He drained half the can and set it down next to the folder, then turned to her and kissed her on the lips. 

She was warm against him, her hands sliding the jacket off his shoulders and then under his shirt, going for the buttons. "I thought you'd be back sooner."

"Thought you'd meant to leave this morning," he replied. Her mouth tasted of toothpaste, his probably of beer and the pasty from earlier. "You should show your face round his a bit more often."

"You should work less." She raised an eyebrow at him as if she saw the details of the case hanging on his mind, then slipped her nightshirt off and drew his hand up to her breast until he thumbed her nipple all by himself and pulled her in closer against his thigh with his other hand on her naked arse. "See me more."

He didn't reply, only shoved the folder further back towards the radiator, sat on the table and had her straddle his thighs, her damp heat riding against his crotch. The beer can teetered dangerously as he knocked into it with his elbow but didn't fall, and Gwen pressed against him in a slow slide and drag, pushing against his hard cock, while he brushed at her nipples, watching them harden

"He's _still_ slinking around the office," Arthur said. He pressed his hand to Gwen's arse and pulled her in tighter against him, thrusting up. "Looking for dirt on all of us." He'd snuffled through Arthur's desk already, looking for money Arthur would've never taken but _not quite_ trusting his word.

"Hmm." Gwen leaned in closer, face in the crook of Arthur's neck, mouthing at his stubble and damp, too-long hair, as she thrust herself harder against him, riding her clit against the seam of his jeans. He got in a hand between them, fingers inside her, his palm buffering every thrust as she rose to kneel then rolled her hips against him. "Yes, yes," she moaned against Arthur's cheek, grinding her crotch into his hand, wet, slippery sounds coming from around Arthur's fingers, as she fucked herself closer and higher and clenched around him as she came, hips slamming down against him.

He kissed under her ear, the side of her neck, her breast. "I'm sure he misses you," he said. 

He drew patterns on her back and as she came down against him, still clenching wet around his fingers, it wasn't like he'd make her go. He'd leave her in bed when he took the bus into work, trying to do his job as Lance was looking for dirt in all the wrong places.

* * *

5\. 

The thing is –

“That's it. Suck it, bitch.”

The thing is, Freya's gay. She's known she was gay since before she knew what 'gay' was, since she was tiny and marrying her Barbies to each other. She had a dykey phase when she was a teenager, until she realised she could be gay and still wear dresses. She used to follow Tegan and Sarah religiously, until she realised that wasn't necessary either. She likes girls. She does not like men.

“Use your mouth. You've got a lovely mouth.”

Which isn't to say she doesn't _like_ men. Some of her best friends are men. But they're hairy and smell and hard in all the wrong places and she doesn't want them touching her, ever. Freya has no intention of ever sleeping with men.

Which makes it a bit of a problem –

“You really get off on this, don't you?”

– That she likes cocks so much. She used to look at pictures online all the time, first in mortification, then in fascination. Straight porn didn't do anything for her, but then she discovered chicks with dicks and was all set.

A hand brushing the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, urging her on.

Freya has hosted Anne Sommers parties with her flatmates twice now, but she hides her realistic dick dildo under three layers of boxes in her wardrobe, because really, what if somebody found it? They'd think she isn't really gay, but she is, she _is_ , as little sense as it makes. She just –

“ _God_ you're gorgeous when you do this.”

– really loves dicks.

The dildo is matte black, on Morgana's insistence, but still more obviously phallic than anything they've used before, with a thick ridge around the head and veins marked out on the plastic, and the surface is ever-so-slightly soft, like skin. Freya laps at the head, curling her tongue around it, one hand gripping Morgana's thigh.

She's not sure what Morgana's really getting out of doing this. To be honest, she's not completely sure what _she's_ getting out of doing this – she's not turned on, exactly, not like during normal sex, nor is she getting the satisfaction she gets from eating a girl out. It's something different, something that makes her skin burn. 

Morgana pushes on the back of her head, urging her to take it deeper, and the smooth slide of it over her tongue feels fantastic. She can't take it that deep, not really, but she wraps a hand around the base of it anyway, as if it's a real cock, and lets Morgana fuck her mouth, dragging her head back and forth, gripping her hair firmly. Morgana fucks her until her mouth is burning, until her spit is running down the sides of the strap-on, and she groans around it, because she's definitely turned on now, she's getting wet.

“You're such a crazy bitch,” says Morgana fondly, letting go of her, letting her draw back and mouth at the dildo, exploring the ridge under the head and the veins with her tongue. 

Then Morgana gets bored of that, and push her down lower, mouth sliding down the plastic until she reaches the place where it meets Morgana's shaved pussy, and then her mouth is half on cool plastic and half on heated skin and all she can do is breathe against it.

She eats Morgana out with one hand playing with her clit and one still gripping the dildo, eats her out grateful, hot and wet, her mouth burning and a little sore. She knows Morgana's cunt now, knows how to do this quick and hard, knows how to tell when Morgana wants it fast, like she does now. When Morgana comes the dildo jerks up in Freya's hand, almost like a real cock.

“You liked that too much,” says Morgana, still shuddering through the aftershocks. “Crazy bitch.” She pets Freya's hair. 

“You love it,” says Freya. She mouths at the tip of the dildo. It's still wet.

* * *

6\. 

“Pinky up while you suck my dick, we’re trying to keep it classy here.” Gwaine drawled, each word extended and snapped at its breaking point for maximum effect. 

The murderous look in Arthur’s too-blue eyes was worth every ounce of punishment that Gwaine would receive later. Arthur always did look at his best when he was about to run someone through with his sword (Gwaine did mean that in every possible way). He wasn’t really surprised when Arthur pinched the tender skin on the inside of his thigh ripping out a wail from Gwaine’s chest. The pain bloomed across his skin sudden and sharp, Arthur pinched it again in time with a bob of his head. 

For a long dizzying second Gwaine couldn’t breathe, wasn’t even bothered that his lungs seemed to have seized for a moment. Then Arthur was gagging on his dick eyes shut tight and throat constricting. The next pinch was on the meat of his ass right over some of the bruises the paddle left the _last_ time he ran his mouth when Arthur was trying to do something ‘nice’ for him. 

It was about all he could take. “Fuck.” Gwaine bit out, head hitting the wall with a hollow thump as he came down Arthur’s throat with a whine he desperately tried to bite back on. Arthur looked satisfied, sitting on his haunches and staring evenly at Gwaine. He shouldn’t be the one to look in control of this situation, Arthur should be the one humiliated and submissive while on his knees. Normal rules never seemed to apply to Arthur.

“I give you six points out of ten, it was a good effort.” Gwaine probably could have stopped himself if he tried but there was something about the casual way that Arthur used him that always seemed like a challenge. 

“I should whip you.” Arthur said but he was smiling a little, licking a drop of Gwaine’s come off the corner of his mouth as he stood. Gwaine’s mouth went a little dry, throat clicking as he tried to swallow. “But it won’t help will it? You’re always going to be a mouthy bitch.” Arthur’s fingers tangled in the collar and tugged until it was biting into the back of Gwaine’s neck and he was having trouble breathing. Arthur simply watched him until Gwaine’s knees buckled. Then Arthur let him sag against the wall, willing his legs to work as he gasped frantically. 

“It’s part of my charm.” Gwaine grinned shakily. “We can’t all be as eager as Lancelot.” Arthur just smirked at him over his shoulder. 

Arthur was the Golden Prince of Camelot, his father had taken control of the space station when it was a den of thieves and whores and turned it into one of the biggest markets in the Horse Head nebula. Like some sort of prince from a fairy tale Arthur was as terrible as he was beautiful. Blond and shiny and never satisfied until Gwaine had given him everything he was or could ever be. 

Gwaine pushed himself to his feet and followed after Arthur. 

Arthur could have anyone, power and politics bowed before him and Merlin parting the seas of the stars with only a wish. Only Arthur didn’t want just anyone, only those that had proven themselves truly loyal.

Gwaine had always lived in Camelot, son of one of the whores and professional duct rat until he decided he wanted more from life.

“There you are, if you’re done playing?” Merlin smiled at them. “We need to talk about district 7, someone has been pushing slaves through our ports on the side.” 

“We can’t have that.” Arthur frowned thoughtfully, mouth still swollen and so-very-red against his pale face. 

“Gwaine, take Lancelot and Percy and put a stop to this. Show them what happens to people who think they can break the rules on Camelot.” Merlin said this with the same cheerful glee he said everything, death and destruction and dinner plans, it _should_ be disconcerting only it was just Merlin. Gwaine looked from Merlin to Arthur for confirmation. 

“String them up from the cargo bay.” Arthur commanded with a small nod. 

Gwaine gave him a curt bow. “Consider them strawberry jam.” He grinned lazily while Arthur rolled his eyes and Merlin beamed. 

Arthur was the king, and they were his knights. Gwaine would do ( _had done_ ) anything for him.

* * *

7\. 

Arthur knows he’s an arsehole. He doesn’t need Morgana’s glare to tell him that. He shouldn’t have moved away, abandoned his friends without explanation. He shouldn’t have lost touch.

He shouldn’t have broken Merlin’s heart.

He knows. It took him a year to find himself, to figure out that he could be someone beyond Uther Pendragon’s son. That’s a long time. But is it too much to forgive? Arthur isn’t sure.

The pub fills and, one by one, his friends file through the door as Morgana had arranged. They stop, slack-jawed as they spot him. He waves sheepishly at one after another. To Gwen he whispers, “Sorry,” and he sees forgiveness in her eyes for all the unanswered emails. She was the only one who kept trying after the first three months of no replies.

The conversation is stilted as they crowd into a booth; no one brings up the elephant in the room. Elena asks Arthur about New York and he lies and says it was great. Then Gwaine punches him in the arm, accompanying his snarky, “Welcome back, Princess.” Things almost feel normal after that.

Until Merlin walks in and then it’s like the entire pub collectively holds its breath.

Behind Merlin is another bloke, dark hair and soulful brown eyes. When Merlin stops at the sight of Arthur and blanches, the bloke’s arm slips around Merlin’s shoulders. The concerned look on his face tells Arthur enough.

He’s too late, Arthur realises. He took too long. He told Merlin not to wait for him, so he has no one to blame but himself. Yet he’d hoped. In the noise and bright lights of New York, he dreamt of Merlin back in England, getting on with his life in all aspects but one. He was a fool.

Suddenly the booth is too crowded, the pub too hot. He pushes his way free with mumbled apologies and a cold sweat trickling down his neck. He finds a darkened corner by the loo and tries to pull himself together.

“You’re back.” The words are sharp-edged. Accusing.

Arthur’s eyes snap open to see Merlin too close. His eyes bore into Arthur; he’s trembling. It’s a flashback to the night he said goodbye.

“You didn’t tell me you were back.” Merlin’s lips turn down, like not calling when he got in was worse than Arthur up and leaving him. 

“I didn’t know what would be waiting for me,” he admits in a moment of accidental honesty.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, and Arthur’s breath catches because no one has said his name like that in a long time. “I waited.”

Arthur feels something squeeze at his heart and he looks away, back to the table where his friends are pretending not to watch them -- all but Merlin’s dark haired bloke, who is kissing Gwen’s cheek and slipping his palm into hers. Oh.

“I _am_ waiting.”

Arthur grabs Merlin’s wrists because he needs to touch but doesn’t know where to start. “I told you not to.”

“I did anyway.” There’s a desperate look in Merlin’s eyes, like Arthur might disappear any second.

They sink deeper into the shadows, out of sight as they lose themselves in kisses.

Arthur pins Merlin’s hands above his head, a touch too tight. Merlin moans and it’s like he never left. Gratitude fills Arthur until he’s aching with it, eyes stinging as he bites at Merlin’s lips and rocks into him. Their trapped cocks grind together. He holds Merlin tighter, squeezing his wrists until Merlin moans again, hips jutting forward.

“You’re back,” Merlin says, breathless and desperate. His thigh slides between Arthur’s legs.

Arthur sucks Merlin’s neck, stopping only when breathing through his nose isn’t enough and he’s getting dizzy. “I’m back,” he pants, riding Merlin’s thigh like they’re teenagers.

Merlin’s pinned to the wall; the roll of his hips is jittery and frantic. He whines to be allowed more movement. Arthur shifts to hold Merlin with one hand and fumbles with both their zips, not willing to break their kisses or step back. Clumsy, he grips their cocks in his fist and tugs. Eyes closed, he breathes in Merlin’s scent. He’s home again.

“I’m back,” he says, repeating himself like a mantra as a counterpoint to each pull of their cocks.

Merlin gasps, coming silently into Arthur’s palm. Sliding the tip of his cock up and down Merlin’s slick shaft, Arthur tumbles after him.

He kisses Merlin, clinging and not letting go. “And I’m not leaving you again.”

* * *

8\. 

To celebrate their six month anniversary, Arthur takes Merlin to dinner at the nicest restaurant in the city, located on the roof of a five star hotel. Merlin doesn’t love Arthur for his money, but occasionally it’s very nice, and Merlin is full and satisfied by the time they step back onto the lift that will take them to the ground floor.

The lift is made of glass and placed directly in the middle of the hotel (which, okay, over the top; Merlin will never understand rich people, Arthur included), but they’ve only gone down a few floors when Arthur presses the emergency stop button and brings them to a halt.

“Arthur?”

“Just trust me,” Arthur says, and kisses him.

The kiss turns heated quickly, and Merlin finds himself pressed back against the lift; he can feel Arthur’s heat pressing against him.

This is Arthur’s exhibitionism coming into play, Merlin thinks. He probably wants a handjob—anyone can see them, after all—and that’s okay, Merlin can handle that.

Except then Arthur turns him around so he’s facing the glass instead, Arthur’s hands on his hips as he nips Merlin’s ear lightly.

“Arthur, what...”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur assures him. “Not going to fuck you here, I know you don’t want that, but you just look so _good_ in that suit.”

Exhibitionism might not get Merlin particularly hot and bothered like it does Arthur, but he certainly gets off on the fact that _Arthur_ gets off on it, so Merlin nods his head in agreement.

He feels Arthur smile into his hair as he reaches around and unbuttons Merlin’s slacks, pulling them down so they pool around Merlin’s ankles.

There’s the sound of a foil packet being opened, and when Arthur’s fingers trace around Merlin’s hole, they are slick with lube.

Merlin laughs, breathlessly. “Bastard. You had this all planned.”

“Maybe,” Arthur murmurs, and inserts one finger, then another without pause. He stretches Merlin leisurely, and Merlin clenches around the digits, trying to encourage Arthur to do more.

Instead, the lift begins descending again, and immediately Merlin stiffens, looking over at the lift buttons warily. And sure enough—the button for the lobby is lit up.

“You— _oh_ ,” he falters when Arthur’s fingers nudge against his prostate for a moment. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Arthur says, sounding unapologetic. The fingers inside him proceed to twist and scissor, and Merlin can’t suppress a moan.

He desperately needs to come before they get to the lobby.

Not for the first time, Merlin wonders why he’s dating an exhibitionist, but at the same time, he finds that he’s turned on almost against his will. Maybe exhibitionism doesn’t appeal to him like it does Arthur, no, but if anyone happens to see them, they would see that that he has an amazingly hot boyfriend who wants him; that Arthur is _his_.

And _that_ thought gets him going like nothing else.

Still, Arthur is being a tease more than anything, fucking him ever-so-casually with his fingers, and there is no way Merlin will ever come from that, so he pushes back against them, forcing Arthur’s fingers to go deeper.

Arthur curls them, and Merlin throws his head back, hands pressed against the glass as he groans, then whimpers when Arthur pulls his fingers almost all the way out before once again ramming them in.

“Fuck, Arthur,” he pants, squirming. Arthur’s fingers are hitting his prostate on almost every thrust, and Merlin is close, _so close_ , when suddenly silk is being wrapped around his cock. Merlin vaguely registers it as Arthur’s handkerchief before he finally comes with a choked off cry, the mess being caught neatly inside it.

Arthur removes the handkerchief and withdraws his fingers at the same time; Merlin lets out a whine at the loss, but he is quick to stand up again when he realises just how close they are to the lobby.

The two of them straighten themselves up, trying to look like they haven’t been doing anything inappropriate as the lift finally comes to a stop and the doors open.

 

They receive some funny looks as they walk across the lobby, but Merlin tries to ignore that, slipping his hand into Arthur’s.

“When we get back to your place I’ll be sure to return the favour,” Merlin tells him quietly. What he doesn’t say is _maybe we should try that again sometime_.

One day he will. Probably.

* * *

9\. 

Merlin had just given up on doing anything either constructive or entertaining with his Friday night when his phone beeped with an incoming text message. When he picked it up, he wasn’t surprised to see Arthur’s name. Merlin had a finely honed instinct for booty calls.

_Home alone?_

_Yes,_ Merlin typed back. _Gwen’s out getting laid. I’m not._

_You are now,_ Arthur shot back a second later, and Merlin grinned. 

Five minutes later, he opened the door to a tipsy, grinning Arthur, with rumpled hair and collar and cuffs unbuttoned. “Failed on the pull, did you?” Merlin said

“Couldn’t find anyone with big enough ears,” Arthur replied.

The ear jokes were getting old, but Merlin let Arthur grab them when Merlin pushed him against the door and dropped to his knees. Arthur‘s cock came out of his trousers and into Merlin’s hand with a heavy slap.

Merlin mouthed at his balls and stroked the shaft until it strained for him. His mouth watered to get around it, and his arse clenched in anticipation. “You got a condom?” 

“I figured you’d have some.”

Which meant he couldn’t blow Arthur against the door, but all right, at least they’d already be in bed. Merlin got up and kissed Arthur a few times before pulling him back to his bedroom.

They kept kissing while they got each other naked, then Merlin dug into the bedside table for the box of condoms he kept there. He should have enough to suck Arthur and get a good fucking in return.

The box was empty. 

“Bollocks.” He’d forgotten that Leon had come over on Tuesday, just for dinner, but then one thing had led to another, and shazam! Empty condom box. 

Arthur groaned from the bed where he was stroking his very hard, very bare cock. “Trust you to agree to sex with no condoms around.”

“Trust you to offer sex and not be arsed to bring any,” Merlin shot back. “Hold onto your bits, I’ll go get some of Gwen’s.”

Gwen had been halfway through a box of condoms when she and Lance had gone exclusive and stopped using them. He pitched the box to Arthur in triumph before hopping into bed. “She never throws anything out.” 

The box hit him back in the chest. “Well, she should have binned these. They expired six months ago.”

“Aw, fuck.”

“Not unless Boots is still open.” 

***

Boots was closed. Arthur and his erection pressed up behind him as they stared into the window of the closed shop. “I just wanted to fuck you.”

Merlin sighed, then snapped his fingers. “Gwaine lives across the street.”

“I know. I don’t want to fuck Gwaine.”

“Yeah, but who do you know with a better stock of condoms? He has so many different kinds, Boots probably buys wholesale from him.”

“He won’t be home yet.”

“I have his emergency key.”

***

Gwaine was out of condoms. 

“How is this possible?” Merlin moaned.

“Shit. He threw SausageFest 2012 last weekend.”

“I know, but surely he would have restocked by now?” Merlin poked through the cabinet again, just to be sure.

And then they both froze as they heard laughter and the sound of keys.

“Quick!” Merlin pulled Arthur to Gwaine’s closet. They stumbled over a football, but managed to get the door closed just before Gwaine stumbled in with his date.

“Here we are,” Gwaine was saying. “Just you, me, and a brand new box of condoms.”

Merlin groaned, the sound muffled by Arthur’s shoulder and the giggles of Gwaine’s partner. Soon enough, her giggles turned to moans and the wet sounds of sex ratcheted Merlin’s arousal back into heady, unbearable levels.

A similar state gripped Arthur, who started fumbling open their trousers. “Really?” Merlin hissed, but Arthur kissed him into silence, and soon Merlin didn’t care where they were anymore.

His cock slid under Arthur’s shirt to find a warm place to rub against his belly. Arthur’s cock found his skin in return, and they hitched together with gasps and kisses until Merlin finally got the release he needed. Arthur’s arms tightened around him, drawing out Merlin’s bliss with his humping until he shot his load all over Merlin.

The closet door banged open just as they were melting into another kiss. 

“I’ve always thought you two should come out of the closet already.” Still half hard himself, Gwaine eyed them with amused annoyance. “You can start by getting the hell out of mine.”

***

The walk back to Merlin’s was more shamefaced than usual.

Clutching two of Gwaine’s new condoms in his hand, Merlin decided it was worth it.

* * *

10.

Modern AU, Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA)

Merlin staggered into the Drachenwald encampment, dropping Arthur’s shield onto the pile of armour beside their dome-tent. Stripping off his tunic, he collapsed on his cot. “Gods, Perc, I’m wrecked.” He rotated his shoulder. “Every inch of me aches. I swear Arthur thinks I’m his personal squire.” He’d spent the day at Pennsic’s Woods Battle, squiring for the newly authorized Arthur and trudging up Runestone Hill repeatedly to retrieve things Arthur had forgotten. 

Percival squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. “Arthur treats you more like a servant than a best-friend, Merlin,” he commented. “You’re a mess. C’mere, shall I rub your shoulders?” 

Merlin crossed his arms self-consciously across his narrow chest. “You don’t mind?” 

Percival smiled reassuringly and nudged him over onto his front. “Looks like you need it.”

Percival’s hands were tentative at first, thumbs running along Merlin’s bony spine, fingers squeezing his shoulders and stroking his back. As Merlin relaxed, sighing happily, Percival’s strokes grew more confident. He worked in silence, zeroing in on Merlin’s worst knots, pressing soothing circles until they released. He worked slowly down Merlin’s back, only pausing when he reached Merlin’s waistband. 

Percival drew away, and Merlin must have whined a little, because the hands returned to Merlin’s legs, working his sore muscles from calves to thighs.

Oh.

That was... nice.

Warmth radiated from Percival’s strong hands. Merlin had no idea thighs could be so sensitive - every stroke felt – marvelous. He couldn’t help arching into the touch. Percival roamed higher, palms squeezing, thumbs dipping briefly to stroke between Merlin’s thighs. When he reached the curve of Merlin’s bottom, he froze. Merlin moaned, rolling against him until Percival’s wide hands fit themselves over the rounds of Merlin’s backside, kneading softly.

Percival made a choked sound, shifting suddenly to straddle Merlin’s thighs. Merlin could feel the heat of Percival’s chest where it barely touched his back, could feel his hair stir under Percival’s breath. Then, so lightly he was barely sure it was happening, he felt the graze of wool trousers against his hose, the outline of Percival’s hardness sliding along the crease between his cheeks. So gentle, so slow.

Merlin half-expected to be crushed beneath Percival’s broad frame, but the larger boy leaned on his hands, the only contact an ever-so-gentle stroking of Percival’s hips against Merlin’s thighs, over and over. Merlin sobbed silently – it felt SO good. Every stroke fired needles of pleasure from scalp to toes. His entire groin felt about to explode. He bit his lip in the aching indecision between grinding down into the cot, or arching back against Percival’s hips. A tingling crept out from his balls and he couldn’t contain a groan of anticipation – the sudden certainty that he was going to come – his first orgasm with someone else. It was like the feeling of a storm on the horizon, a magical spell about to be released.

Percival’s breath was heavy on his neck; Merlin could feel his arms trembling; see the tension in the hands bracketing his shoulders. Merlin ground his hips back as high as he could, squeezing his thighs. With a muffled gasp, Percival suddenly stilled, pressed hard against Merlin’s ass, pinning him. Merlin felt the boy’s cock twitch through the confines of his trousers, then a hot wetness trickled down Merlin’s crack. He had time to think, “Gods, he’s coming! I made him come!” before his body reacted and he ground down, soaking his bedding with the waves of his release. Heart pounding, he collapsed on his cot like a rag-doll.

The warm weight of Percival pulled away, leaving a too-cool space in his wake. “Oh gods, Merlin, I’m sorry.” Percival’s strangled distress was evident. “I…” He broke off.

Merlin rolled over. Percival looked mortified, about to bolt. “Hey!” He caught Percival’s hand. “Gods, no, Percival, why would you apologize? That was… I’ve – never felt anything like it. It was the most amazing thing I’ve done, ever!” He couldn’t hold back the wide, blissed-out smile that crept across his face. 

Percival’s face slowly lit up. “You really didn’t mind…? I don’t know what I thought I was doing…”

“Well,” Merlin said, tugging Percival back to the cot. “Whatever it was, I hope you’ll do more of it.” He grinned up at Percival. “It was utterly fucking brilliant.” Cupping Percival’s neck, he moved in for a slow kiss.

And if Arthur walked in to find them still kissing hours later, well, he was just going to have to deal with it. He didn’t OWN Merlin, after all.

* * *

11\. 

“I’m going to piss.” Merlin announces as he steals away from the knights gathered around the campfire. Arthur catches his eye and attempts some sort of eyebrow communication, but he has no idea what right, left, right, right means in brow language so he just shrugs his shoulders and walks off.

Not trusting the pranking nature of his comrades, he walks several feet into the forest and looks around suspiciously before untying his laces and pulling out his cock. He’s about to have the best piss of his life, but is interrupted with a warm presence at his back and a strong hand around his prick.

“Oi! You scared me,” he shrieks.

“Couldn’t have you getting lost in the woods,” comes Arthur’s voice right in his ear. His King gives his soft cock a squeeze and tugs a little. “We’ll have to be quick.”

“I really do have to pee.” Merlin says, though he can already feel the blood rushing to his dick.

“After. It’ll make this better anyways.” Arthur responds, brushing his thumb over the tip and slicking him with his own precome.

Arthur takes things slow, letting his body adjust to the new sensations and coaxing him into a frenzied arousal. He’s hanging in this perfect balance of needing to pee and needing to come and he’s never felt something so incredible in his life. It’s almost as good as when his magic courses through him.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Arthur moans into his ear, hand tightening around his cock as he firmly strokes him. “Not sure if you’re going to piss or come. Feeling so much pressure you just know you have to find release one way or another.”

Merlin is rendered speechless at the overwhelming tension, leaning back into Arthur’s warm body and throwing his head back to rest against his shoulder. He has to bite his lip to keep in a strangled groan.

“I know you can take a little more. I promise it’ll feel good. Do you trust me?” Arthur asks, hot breath puffing against the side of his face. Merlin nods in answer, hoping he gets the message because he’s entirely unable to speak at the moment.

Another hand reaches around his body and gently rests against his stomach, just above the base of his cock. Without warning, Arthur presses the heel of his hand deep into his lower abdomen. Merlin keens and arches off him, groin throbbing, sparks of pain and pleasure jolting through his body; all the way down to the tips of his toes and back up to his overly large ears. 

“That’s it. Come on, you can do this.” Arthur says encouragingly as he speeds up his hand, pumping furiously while he pushes his heel further into Merlin’s stomach. The pressure is just **_too much_** and he thinks he might die from the overstimulation. Beads of sweat gather over his brow and trickle down his temples.

“You’re so close. Come for me.” Arthur says, and _yes_ , finally he feels his balls tighten to a nearly painful degree and then he’s coming all over the forest floor in long stringy spurts. The relief is sweet, but incomplete. There’s still this slight pressure deep in his groin and he’s suddenly slammed with the immediate need for a second release, to empty his bladder and stop this maddening strain on his body.

“Do it.” Arthur says, but he can’t be serious because Merlin’s cock is still in his hand.

“No, I--” Merlin is cut off with a nip to his ear and Arthur’s heel pressing, pressing, pressing into him until he can’t hold it any longer and lets his body go lax as the first stream of urine rushes out of him.

The hiss of his piss is loud and obscene, and he blushes as he realizes Arthur can probably feel the heat of it passing through his spent cock. He feels embarrassed and pretty humiliated, but letting everything go feels like a second orgasm and he can’t restrain a long, guttural moan from escaping his lips.

“You’re amazing. You did such a good job.” Arthur whispers in his ear as he uses his free hand to stroke Merlin’s cheek.

His body goes limp in Arthur’s embrace and he lets his eyes close in contentment. Ruined. Arthur’s gone and ruined him for even a simple piss in the woods. As a tender kiss is placed against his neck, he finds he doesn’t mind.

* * *

12\. 

It starts simple. Percival on his knees. Arthur standing in front of the toilet.

“Take me out,” Arthur orders.

He’s touched Arthur’s cock, but not like this, not soft, not without intent to get him off. But opening his jeans, reaching in and finding the thick shaft, pulling it out without getting caught on anything, like it’s precious (it is, to Percival), sends Percival’s heartbeat into overdrive. He doesn’t fondle, because this isn’t about sex no matter how hard he is, but cradles it gently, angling the tip toward the bowl, keeping his fingers out of the way as the first stream hits the water. 

The hair stands up on the back of his neck at the sound. Breathing becomes difficult. It takes every ounce of concentration he possesses not to let his hands shake and earn a punishment for allowing Arthur to miss.

When Arthur’s done, Percival cleans up. Shakes him gently. Wipes away the droplets that cling to the slit. Tucks him back into his pants.

He waits until Arthur leaves before licking his fingers.

\-----

It takes a week for him to add a new step.

Percival kneels there, head bowed, breathing in the rich smell of Arthur’s piss before it loses some of its pungency when it mixes with the water. It’s warmer here than anywhere else in the bathroom, temperatures higher either because of Percival’s excitement or Arthur’s sleepy body or just the hot urine adding degrees to the mix. The reason doesn’t matter. Only the drops of perspiration at Percival’s temples do. His hair clings to his skin by the time Arthur is done.

“Clean me up, boy,” Arthur instructs. Just like he’s done every other time.

Percival hesitates. He nearly chokes when he speaks. “May I use my mouth, Sir?”

Arthur’s sharp intake of breath makes him ache. “You may.” His voice is lower than usual. 

Without letting him go, Percival leans forward and drags his tongue over the wet tip. The few drops that linger behind are as bitter and hot as he’s dreamed about. He licks each and every single one away. When he’s done, he seals his lips around the crown and sucks gently, his lashes fluttering shut as the moan he can’t control rumbles from his throat.

As soon as the door shuts behind Arthur, Percival yanks hard on his own cock. Just once. That’s all it takes to come all over the floor.

He licks that away, too.

\-----

Three days later, he’s already in position when Arthur wanders in from waking.

“Take me out,” Arthur says around a yawn.

Percival obeys, but rather than aim toward the bowl, he leans forward and takes most of Arthur’s soft length in his mouth.

Arthur stills. He’s fully awake. Neither speaks or looks away. Percival can’t breathe but it has nothing to do with his stuffed mouth and everything to do with the sudden fear he won’t get what he’s been craving.

Slowly, Arthur lifts his hand and rests it on the top of Percival’s head. As his broad thumb caresses Percival’s temple, a vein pulses in his cock, and the first stream of piss stutters into Percival’s waiting throat.

He swallows as quickly as he can, every inch of his skin scalding to the touch, but Arthur gets hard as the flow goes on, nudging the back of Percival’s throat in its bid to fill it. Percival gags on what he can’t consume, hot fluid spilling from the corners of his lips where he hasn’t created a perfect seal, but what he loses splatters onto his neck and bare chest, branding him as Arthur’s as much as this act does. He wants to close his eyes and revel in the gift, but he can’t tear his gaze away from the hunger in Arthur’s face.

So he stays like that for the duration, even when Arthur is done, his tongue sweeping around the tip and into the slit to clean him as he’s done before. When Arthur pushes on his head, that’s the only cue he needs to stop, and he sits back onto his heels, cock aching but his flesh hot and bursting.

“Come.”

The order is so unexpected, Percival gasps. His body reacts, because it can’t not, balls pulling tight, cock jerking as he shoots inside his pants. It soaks through the sweats he sleeps in, dripping down to his crack.

Arthur smiles. There’s no doubt he knows Percival’s ass is now even more ready for him.

* * *

13\. 

“Morgana’s brother is gorgeous.”

Merlin laughs and turns over to face his girlfriend. “Should I be worried?”

Freya’s eyes are bright in the light filtering through the curtains. “Of course not. No more than I should be, don’t think I didn’t see you looking.”

Even though he knows she’s joking, Merlin kisses her. “You know I wouldn’t, don’t you?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She nudges their foreheads together. “I’m not jealous, I brought it up because we both think Arthur’s good-looking. And I didn’t chat with him much but you two seemed to like each other.”

“What?” He blinks at her, but she’s still meeting his eyes, steady and smiling. And she can’t mean what he thinks she means, but he doesn’t think she can mean anything _else_.

Nobody ever believes him when he says she’s got a wicked streak, but they don’t get to see the mischief light her eyes up like he does. “I’d like it, if you would.”

They’ve talked about this before, in the abstract, how if they found someone they both liked enough they might try a threesome, or even something long-term. Merlin’s thought about it, how it would feel to reach across Freya and hold someone else’s hand in the dark. He’s never imagined anyone specific, but now that Freya’s said it, he can’t help thinking of Arthur, of bright blue eyes and blond hair and the stiff demeanor that covers up a sense of humor, and it feels like all the blood in his body goes to his cock at once. “I think I’d like it,” he says, resisting the urge to whisper. It’s just them in the flat.

“You two were on the couch while Gwen and I were talking, and I wondered what it would be like if you kissed him, how it would look. I think he’d be rough with you, but only after he was sure you’d like it.” He shivers, and she bites his collarbone.

“He’d be gentle with you, though,” Merlin says, shifting his hips. “He’s chivalrous that way.”

Freya smiles and cups her hand on the outside of his boxers. “You’d have to demonstrate that I’m not fragile.” She hums, kisses him and teases at his waistband. “He’s got a nice mouth. I’d like to watch him blow you.”

“Jesus _Christ_.”

“He could blow you,” she continues, finally letting her fingers brush his cock, “and then after you came, he could eat me out, so he could taste both of us.” That makes him gasp and buck his hips. Freya lets a grin free and takes one of his hands, guides it between her legs so he can feel how wet she’s getting. “You could take turns.”

Merlin can feel his ears going red even as he brushes his thumb across her clit, making her squirm. “That gets us off, but what are we to do for him?”

“Anything. Everything.” She traps his hand between her legs and lets her head fall back, as turned on as he is. “Maybe he could fuck me, or, God, you, or we could blow him, or—oh, darling, that’s so good.”

He’s starting to ache for relief, thinking of Arthur spread out between them, how those big hands would look cupping Freya’s face, how it would feel to be pinned against the bed by all that muscle. He babbles everything he’s thinking until Freya is whimpering against his mouth and he’s so near to coming he’s wild with it. “Please,” he manages when he runs out of words.

“He shook my hand when we left,” she says, body going taut and tense, “and all I could think was I want both of your fingers inside me at once, till I can’t tell who’s who and I just—”

Merlin jolts into orgasm and loses the rest of her sentence, loses anything but the image of it all, coming in his boxers and on her hand like a fucking teenager. Freya gasps into his mouth and puts her hand between her legs to finish herself, impatient and beautiful. They grin at each other afterwards, shaky and giddy, the possibility almost tangible between them.

Eventually, Merlin makes himself get up to get a washcloth and change. Freya’s voice stops him before he gets to the door. “You should call Arthur tomorrow and invite him for dinner. We’ll see how things go from there.”

* * *

14\. 

Merlin pushes open the door of the stall, slides the lock in place and waits. 

It’s not long before the sound of the door opening and heavy footsteps echo through the empty bathroom and Merlin holds his breath as someone enters the stall to his left.

He’s not sure of the exact protocol for these types of things. Does he speak? Does he seal his lips around the circular cut out in the wall and wait for the heavy feel of a cock on his tongue? Thankfully, it seems, the man on the other side knows all too well. The sound of a zipper being pulled down is quickly followed by a rustle of clothing and Merlin finds himself dropping to his knees like he’s tethered to it.

Harsh pants resonate from the other side of the wall, and the knowing slick sound of skin on skin is a teasing prelude. Then the tip of a pink cock edges through the hole in the partition. Merlin’s eyes widen at the sight as the man pushes further, until the nest of curls at the base of his cock comes into view and Merlin takes a moment to appreciate the sheer size of him. Merlin’s lips tug upwards into a soft smile and something warm flares in the pit of his stomach. The overbearing desire to taste sears under his skin. The first touch is tentative as Merlin runs a blunt nail along the length of a thin blue vein. The man’s cock is long, thinner in girth than Merlin’s own but no less tempting as a pearl of pre-come beads at his slit.

It’s madness but Merlin’s mouth is watering at the sight of it and without dwelling further he slides down to capture the droplet with the tip of his tongue. The taste is sharp and Merlin leans closer to swirl his tongue around the head with more determination, lapping at the man’s slit hungry for more.

The bloke hisses and Merlin takes a sense of pride in that and seals his lips over the head of his cock and sucks, hard. A palm slaps against the wall, it shakes the wooden stall between them, but Merlin simply allows his jaw to slacken and his lips to draw further down to the base. Merlin steadies the man’s cock with one hand, the other presses against his own crotch, trapped tightly in his jeans.

His head is heavy with it, the musky scent of the man’s cock fills his mouth and his nostrils until Merlin could almost drown in it. The steady rhythm he’s built up becomes increasingly harder to control as the man’s hips begin to stutter. The desire to drag a noise, any noise, out of him drives Merlin to bob his head quicker, curl his tongue with broad stripes on every upstroke. It seems to be working, if the broken whispers of cursed ‘fucks’ is anything to go by.

The guy’s thrusts grow erratic, moans slipping from his lips as his cock nudges against the back of Merlin’s throat. The pace is brutal. The corner of Merlin’s lips ache and tears sting behind his eyes but when the boy starts to pull back, murmurs, “Close…shit. I’m going to…” Merlin slides a hand under the stall and wraps his fingers around the man’s ankle. ‘Stay,’ he wants to say, but his mouth is a bit preoccupied at the moment, so he clutches on tighter, runs his nails down the back of the man’s calf and hums a contented sigh as his cock pulses against Merlin’s tongue and streaks of come paint the inside of his lips.

“Fuck, Merlin, your mouth.” The man pants and Merlin runs the back of his hand over his jaw, thumb pressing against the smirk on his lips and laughs. He slides off his knees and settles back against the base of the toilet. The click of the stall lock slides out of place and Merlin leans up to unlatch his own. He stares up with a lazy smile as the man stands in the open doorway bracketed by the fluorescence of the strip- lights overhead.

“The things I do for you,” Merlin sighs and Arthur slides to the floor, blissed out expression on his face as he rests his chin on Merlin’s thigh. Merlin’s still hard and he rolls his hips in demand.

“No walls,” Merlin instructs, pleased as Arthur starts to nuzzle along the inseam of his jeans. “I want your hands on me.”

* * *

15\. 

**Of Monsters and Men**

When Merlin had nightmares about what it would be like to be caught, they were never—even in his wildest, most terrifying dreams—they were never like this. 

His body is on fire, lit up from the seemingly never-ending pit of golden magic that pools in his spine and floods out his finger. He fades in and out of consciousness, hardly able to understand what is happening to him, chained by the wrists and ankles but only his cock is bound, leaving him free to scream out in uncontrollable pain that rages a war with pleasure. 

People cycle through, all wearing lab coats and thick, leather gloves. Merlin knows their detached sensation intimately, even if they've only ever touched one part of him. Some of them have kind eyes but most won't meet his gaze. He begs them to stop, pleads with them to have some mercy, even if it is merely death. But all he gets for his efforts of speech are sad twists of mouths or worse, cold laughs and always, he _always_ gets their fingers, impersonal leather dipping between his thighs and pressing, pushing and curling until they're breaching him, never having to stretch him since someone is constantly there to milk him and keep him wide and open.

Too often, his eyes roll back and darkness overwhelms his screams. 

Merlin tries to count the days but they fade, one into another, until—

His eyes are neither kind or sad, instead, laced with fury and white-hot righteous anger that echoes in his voice.

"How long has he been here?"

"Three weeks and still going strong, sir. The output peaks at five hundred MagicWatts an hour with the drug and reaches up to fifteen hundred during stimulation. We could power London for years."

Merlin wants to listen to the other voice, explaining what they're doing to him but he can only focus on the man in front of him, the way his bare hands press against Merlin’s forehead so _gentle_ but sure, as if he were a man to be touched, instead of a monster.

"You can't keep harnessing magic from him," the blond man says, running his fingertips over Merlin's cracked lips. "You'll ruin him—a fate worse than death."

"Please," Merlin says, tongue snaking out to wrap around the man's fingers. "Please." 

Perhaps it is death Merlin is begging for. Perhaps it is mercy. Humanity is something he could never wish for and yet, it is only here that he finds it.

Blue eyes blaze brighter and Merlin wails, his body still overstimulated and his cock heavy as lead on his belly, swollen to the point of worry and leaking into a pool of come that never dries on his heated flesh. He twists in his chains, crying out as he jerks into the man's touch—still at his face but also now trailing down his inflamed skin.

"You can't drain a God of magic made from the earth," the blond whispers. "He will lie here, magic fueling us for eternities but it won't change anything."

It sounds like a testimony. Merlin moans, body bowing.

"He has done nothing but live and I will _not_ let my father continue to hunt a people whose only crime was to love what they found in each other. This ends here," the man that can only be Arthur Pendragon says, words firm and his touch—oh, his touch like a disciple as he strokes Merlin's cock with irrefutably strong strokes. 

"My father has not yet broken your faith," Arthur says, now looking into Merlin's eyes. "I can see it in your eyes." 

He tilts his head, teasingly. "You are... quite beautiful, considering the size of your ears." 

Merlin wants to mock him but he can't find his tongue now, not when his body is finding pleasure that vows release.

"Come for me," he commands, arrogant but brave. "Magic is an extension of your civil liberties. A magic that cannot and will not part from you without your consent from this day onward. You have my word."

Then he smiles, white teeth promising, as his other hand slides down, cradling Merlin's balls, before three bare fingers, no leather that spoke only of cruel, false intensions—just the heavy press of those glorious fingers into the throbbing bundle of nerves that sends Merlin's soaring.

Merlin comes, rising, his hands now free to wrap around his own savior and their mouths meet in a kiss that delivers them both into a new beginning—a new dawn of hope.

* * *

16\. 

"Merlin," Arthur’s voice is brusque as he pauses by Merlin’s desk. _Damn, he looks good in a suit_. "My client’s on his way up. Bring those files into my office, and some coffee."

“Sure,” Merlin nods, already moving. Arthur Pendragon isn't known for his patience, and just because Merlin's shagging his boss it doesn't mean he gets any special treatment in the office.

Merlin enters awkwardly, files trapped under one arm as he struggles with the door, trying and failing to close it behind him. 

"You could put the files down _first_ Merlin," Arthur rolls his eyes and smirks, a flash of crooked teeth between sinfully pink lips. Merlin remembers how those lips looked stretched around his cock this morning and feels a flush of heat rip through him. He dumps the files on the desk and turns back to close the door behind. 

For the rest of the afternoon Merlin plays the role of the perfect assistant. He takes notes efficiently, provides coffee on demand and tries to stay focused on the job. Arthur’s not making it easy; he's deliberately provoking Merlin by being bossier than usual. But Merlin knows how this game works by now. It’s obvious what Arthur wants from him later, and Merlin’s always more than happy to oblige.

xOx

"Strip for me."

Merlin stands with his back to the bedroom door, watching as Arthur obeys him instantly, shucking off his office clothes until he’s naked. Arthur's cock is already thickening, rising heavy between his legs. Merlin loves how desperate Arthur is for this. 

"Pick up your tie," he says, holding out his hand. "Give it to me. Now get on the bed, face down.” Merlin runs the smooth silk of Arthur's tie through his fingers as Arthur moves, crawling onto his bed and spreading himself out for Merlin. "Did I _tell_ you to put your legs apart?" Merlin chuckles, "no, it’s okay -- leave them like that. I love how eager you are."

Merlin kicks off his shoes and removes his clothes, keeping his tie in his hand along with Arthur’s. He climbs onto the bed and straddles Arthur's lower back, leaning down to breathe in his scent as he kisses the warm skin of Arthur's shoulders. "Now..." he murmurs. "Last time you weren't very good at keeping still, so I'm going to help you with that today." He moves Arthur’s arms up above his head and starts to wrap their ties around his wrists. "Is this okay? If you don't want this you can tell me."

"No..." Arthur replies quickly. "I mean... I want it." He sounds strained, desperate. 

"Good." Merlin secures Arthur's wrists to the wooden headboard, then moves to kneel between Arthur's spread legs and slaps his arse lightly, making Arthur jerk and whimper. "Up on your knees for me now, so I can really see you."

Arthur folds his legs under himself, pushing his lower body up and displaying himself to Merlin. He's so beautiful like this, so vulnerable and perfect as he quivers, waiting for Merlin's touch. 

Merlin strokes Arthur’s back lightly, enjoying the smooth skin under his hands. He sweeps them downwards, skimming the generous curve of Arthur’s arse, the back of his thighs. Arthur makes a little helpless sound.

“It’s okay,” Merlin murmurs soothingly. “I want to hear you.”

Merlin dips his head and tastes Arthur’s skin now, licking down the bumps of his spine and dropping teasing kisses on the dimples at the small of his back.

“ _Please_ ,” Arthur gasps.

Merlin smiles as he moves lower, nosing into the hot crack of Arthur’s arse and down to tongue at his balls. He’s surrounded by the hot, musky scent of his lover. Arthur might be his boss at work, but not here. Here, Merlin is in charge.

Arthur rocks back and whimpers. “ _Mer_ -lin!” 

Merlin takes pity on him and licks his way up to the tight furl of Arthur’s hole. He feels the muscle flutter beneath his tongue and Arthur moans. Merlin licks and sucks and dips inside with his tongue until Arthur’s sobbing and babbling incoherently. But Merlin doesn’t stop until Arthur’s come all over the sheets without his dick being touched, and his voice is hoarse from begging to be fucked.

“Now I’m going to fuck you until you come again,” Merlin promises.

Arthur groans and presses greedily back for more.

* * *

17\. 

“Is that what I . . . think it is?” Arthur asked, gawping at the contraption between Merlin’s legs.

A half-hour before, Merlin had fixed a chastity cage to his cock. The cold steel had been unpleasant at first, but it had warmed to body temperature quickly, and the thought of showing Arthur—doing this for Arthur—had settled his nerves and turned him on in equal measure. Now, though, with the way Arthur was looking at him, Merlin flushed, suddenly feeling the vulnerability of his nakedness while Arthur stood fully clothed, poised at the foot of their bed in his expensive suit. 

He smiled, a nervous laugh bubbling up along with his explanation. “I thought it might be fun,” he said, gesturing at Arthur’s half-packed valise. “If I wore it while you’re away.” 

“But I’ll be gone for three weeks,” Arthur said, his disbelief plain. His gaze slid from Merlin’s face to his cock, forbidden beneath the cage, and trussed balls. Self-conscious, Merlin cupped himself, feeling the smooth metal and the soft skin beneath. 

“I know. But I want . . . I want you to know I’m yours. And I think it might be—inspiring. For my art.” 

Arthur’s eyes darkened, and he came forward, reaching out for Merlin to drag him close. He pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s lips, one hand drifting lower. Merlin’s breath caught at the gentle touch to his sensitive balls. 

“You won’t be able to wank?” 

“Not until you unlock me.” Any arousal would be uncomfortable at best, at worst painful. He was already getting a taste of that with Arthur standing so close. 

“But . . . are you sure?” Arthur’s voice was hoarse. 

He pressed a small key into Arthur’s palm and grinned. “Just don’t lose it,” he said, “or I’ll be stuck in this thing and _that_ would make for a very awkward trip to the locksmith.”

~*~

Never had one of Arthur’s business trips felt so long. Every day, Merlin went to work in his studio wearing baggy trousers, channeling his frustration into his painting. Deep reds and fiery oranges found their way onto his canvas, something crackling underneath his skin. The sight of the cage, the feel of it swinging heavily between his thighs, gave him a secret thrill. It was strange, but after so many years with so many men, he liked feeling owned.

At night, Arthur called and whispered lewd fantasies into his ear, the sound of wanking on the end of the line making him leak, half-hard and trapped, almost mad.

~*~

Merlin was jolted awake in the early morning by lips pressing kisses against his abdomen. His heart thundered, only quieting when he looked down and realised it was Arthur. The smell of his cologne mingled with clean sweat, and Merlin buried his fingers in Arthur’s hair.

“What are you doing home so—” 

“We finished the deal,” Arthur said, his smile brilliant. “I took an early flight. Couldn’t wait to see you.” 

“A-arthur,” Merlin stuttered as the kisses that had woken him continued, moved lower. He felt Arthur’s tongue snake out and lick between the bars that caged his cock.

“Been dreaming about you,” Arthur said, murmuring against his skin. The warm puffs of air against his prick made him hot all over. “Thought about fucking you like this, locked up so you couldn’t come.” 

A high-pitched whine escaped Merlin’s mouth as Arthur teased him through the cage with probing fingers, cupping him possessively. His cock had already fattened up to the point of discomfort, swelling against the metal. He’d wanted to draw out the pleasure, make his freeing a ritualistic culmination of the desire that had built over the better part of a month like a slow, sweet torture, but now everything but Arthur’s mouth vanished as Merlin’s sore bollocks were lashed with a knowing tongue. “Don’t. Please,” he whispered. “Let me . . . Please.” 

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. For a moment Merlin worried that Arthur really would leave him like this, but then nimble fingers were releasing him. His cock hardened to fullness against his belly, dark with pent-up arousal. When Arthur touched him again, he shivered at the magnified sensation. 

“Wanna see how much you’ve saved up for me.” Arthur mumbled words as he took Merlin’s sore erection into his mouth, sucking hard. Merlin keened as he arched off the bed, thrusting deep into Arthur’s throat as his cock blurted precome, balls too full to hold it in.

* * *

18.

The hoofbeats are getting louder, and there’s nothing to do but hide. Arthur doesn’t even have a sword.

“Get in here,” Arthur hisses, but Merlin can’t do it. He stares at the tiny hole in the earth and feels panic flooding his chest.

“I won’t fit,” Merlin says, because Arthur hardly fits. The hole, which is perhaps more like a tiny cave, slopes gently into the ground. Arthur is nestled inside, lying on his back and looking up at Merlin with an expression of urgency.

“Merlin, get in here, or we both die.”

When Merlin still doesn’t move, Arthur changes his tack.

“Look, just keep your arms up.” He wiggles his fingers above his head. “Even if we get stuck, we can pull ourselves out.”

This is finally enough to convince Merlin to squeeze into the tiny cavity on top of Arthur. He holds himself up with his arms as Arthur helps guide him into the tiny space between the hardened rock and dirt of the upper wall and Arthur’s warm body. Arthur’s hands steady first his thighs, then his hips, his waist, and eventually just grasp at his forearms when he’s finally settled into the hole, his legs on either side of Arthur’s.

“We have to cover the opening now,” Arthur says, and Merlin nods. He grabs the branch Arthur wrested from a nearby tree and manoeuvres it to cover the entrance. It is dark and still where they are. The only sound is Arthur’s low, even breathing.

Terror wells up within Merlin. He can’t help but feel the pressure on all sides of his body. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating, like the hole keeps getting smaller, and it will swallow them.

He’s trembling and gasping for air, and he feels incredibly stupid, because he can’t help it. He strains his legs against the walls of the hole. He needs to move.

Arthur slots his fingers between Merlin’s and squeezes his hands.

“Not much longer,” he says.

“I can’t,” is all Merlin can get out, arching his back against the hard-packed earth above him.

“Shh,” Arthur says. “Be still. We can get out whenever we want to. We just don’t want to yet.”

“We can’t,” Merlin sobs.

“Yes, we can,” Arthur says. “Breathe with me.”

Merlin presses his face into Arthur’s neck, listening to his steady breathing, trying to match its pace. The smell of his sweat-slick skin soothes Merlin, centres him and reminds him of home.

Arthur is rocking against Merlin, pressing against his body. The motion steadies him, reminds him that they’ll be able to free themselves when the raiders have passed.

The ground begins to shake with the proximity of the horses. Merlin feels his calm slipping away, loses his breath, and Arthur has to help him find it again. Arthur is breathing loudly though his mouth, the sound of it his only stronghold. Arthur begins to rock more forcefully, pushing against him so hard that Merlin doesn’t notice the rumbling of the earth.

When Arthur’s breathing suddenly gets a little less steady and his voice breaks around a groan, Merlin realises that Arthur isn’t just rocking; he’s _rutting_.

Priorities and anxieties instantly readjust themselves in Merlin’s brain as he hones in on the feeling of Arthur’s hips driving up against his, and _fuck_ , Arthur’s prick is hard.

So Merlin kisses his neck and grinds down against him, and Arthur’s moan nearly shatters him.

Merlin feels Arthur try to pull his arms down into the hole, so he grabs his wrists and holds them there. Arthur groans and strains against him, so Merlin tightens his grip as he licks along Arthur’s jaw.

They roll their hips together, and it’s a frustrating mixture of _so good_ and _not enough_.

“Want to fuck you,” Arthur says, and suddenly, it is enough.

Merlin spirals through the headiness of Arthur’s words. Arthur tells him things about his body that make him want to stuff his cock past those lips, over that tongue, just to see if his mouth feels as good as it sounds.

“Your perfect body is going to make me come,” Arthur says.

Moments later, he makes good on the threat, surging up against Merlin and turning his head to seek Merlin’s lips. Merlin sucks Arthur in, relishing the way he comes undone.

Merlin comes in a sticky mess and soon realises that the ground is still. Digging his fingers into the dirt, he starts to shimmy his way above ground.

* * *

19.

The six most terrifying words in the English language are: come on Merlin, it’ll be fun. 

They’ve led to: attending a party in a sex shop and Merlin leaving with the word _slut_ stamped across his arse; getting trussed up as Snow White; and being arrested for accidentally smuggling magic mushrooms out of Greece. Really, he should learn to say no to Gwaine. 

Merlin shifts on the parquet of the hotel suite, rearranging his scruffy clothes and trying to make  
it look casual. All the furniture is glass and the buffet contains both people and food, the former  
– some of whom are undressed as opposed to underdressed – coating each other with handfuls of the  
latter, cream squishing through groping fingers, chocolate sauce dribbling down spines, cherries  
flickering red on pink as they pass mouth to mouth. Great. They’ve crashed a Black Forrest orgy.  
Shifting his weight, Merlin swipes a grape from the fruit bowl, accidentally meeting the unnaturally  
blue eyes of the woman in crimson who’s been watching him since they arrived.

“Come now, you can do better than that.” Slinking to his side, tits brushing his arm, she reaches  
past him for a cherry. She dips it into a bubbling chocolate fountain and holds it up to Merlin’s nose. 

“Um – ”

“Would you feel better about accepting if you knew my name?” Smiling crooked, wicked, and deeply  
red, she says, “It’s Nimueh.” 

“Mer – ” 

The rest of the word is lost, cherry turning into what the sex shop escapade taught him is a very  
miniature ball gag as Nimueh swings it into his mouth. Forcing a smile around it, Merlin looks for  
rescue, but Gwaine’s on his knees, licking his way up the honey-coated thighs of some girl with  
waist-length hair that has the colour and shine of currants. 

“Your friend seems to be enjoying himself with Morgana.”

Spitting the stone into his palm, Merlin swallows. “Gwaine never met a casual encounter with a  
beautiful woman he didn’t like. The honey part is – ” Gwaine reaches the apex of her legs, brushing  
his nose over the seam of her shorts. Her back arches away from the wall; Merlin turns, biting the  
inside of his cheek to keep from imagining himself splayed out for Gwaine’s tongue. “ – new.”

Oh, balls. Now he’s at a Black Forrest orgy with a hard-on.

“Do _you_ like honey?”

Nimueh’s voice tickles his soul. Scratch that. He’s at a Black Forrest orgy with a hard-on and a  
woman with a distinctly predatory expression. 

Trailing down the glass tabletop, Nimueh considers him. “No, you’re not a honey person. Chocolate?” 

Heart doing a Michael Flatley jig in his throat, Merlin shakes his head.

Her long fingers – which for some reason he has equal ease imagining around his throat as his dick  
and _wow_ , that should be disconcerting not arousing, surely – skip over kiwi and pineapple,  
thin custard and cake, and come to rest near a tray of enticing cocktails.

“Ah.” She selects a silky orange concoction in a curvaceous glass with fruit skewered all the way up  
the straw, and holds it out. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

*

Gwaine’s gaze prickling his skin, Merlin mouths over red satin, taste of peaches under his tongue  
and in his head, Nimueh in his veins. He licks over her knee to sample the soft inside of her thigh,  
hitching her dress up as he goes, fabric shushing on the floor beneath the table.

She’s not wearing any knickers, of course.

“More?”

Nimueh dips her fingers into the glass, wipes stickiness and sweetness over his lip, pushing into  
his mouth. Unsure if it’s her or the drink he finds intoxicating, he sucks, seeking Gwaine’s eyes. 

A smirk – multitasked with dripping honey over his chest for Morgana’s eager lips – is all Merlin  
gets before Nimueh tugs on his hair, eyes knowing even as Merlin draws his tongue up over her clit  
and slips his hands under her arse to bring her up to meet his mouth.

*

It’s dawn when they leave. Slinging his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, Gwaine – whiffing of honey and  
sex – lands a sloppy kiss on Merlin’s cheek. “Don’t we always have fun together?”

True, they do. It’s not quite the kind Merlin wants, but perhaps if he keeps not saying no to  
Gwaine, one day they’ll have done everything but each other, and he’ll get to taste the thing he  
really craves.

* * *

20.

Merlin had been hiding in the supply closet, but then Arthur had burst in, too, and was now in _extremely_ close proximity.  
  
“Fuck, just- sorry- I-“ Merlin starts, trying to salvage some sort of semblance of dignity out of this mess, trying to move further back, onto his toes, anywhere. But then Arthur slowly moves his leg _upwards_ and not away like and sane, normal person would do. “Arthur!"  
  
Arthur just palms Merlin’s hip, pulling him forward and into that thrust, making Merlin... _ride_ his fucking thigh like... like...  
  
“I thought you hated me,” he thinks he hears Arthur say. He’s a little busy trying to not lose his sanity. His eyes snap open, not that it does much good, he still can’t see Arthur’s face in the darkness of the supply closet, but he finally takes notice of the hardness pressing against his own leg.  
 _  
_ _Oh.  
_  
“So Gwaine was right,” Arthur murmurs in his ear, and, really, does Arthur expect him to respond? Not when he’s speaking in that low tone, all eloquent vowels and cockiness. Merlin’s hands have actually started to ache from gripping the shelf behind him for so long.  
  
“What?” Merlin manages, turning his face to nudge Arthur’s before swallowing a low groan as he rolled his hips in time with Arthur’s pulling and they end up coming together solidly, rather than the teasing presses Arthur had been making. Arthur bites down just underneath Merlin’s ear, fingers tightening in his hair and his hip, and doesn’t that just make Merlin _whine._ He relinquishes his grip on the shelves and holds onto Arthur’s shoulders, and he can feel the fucking smirk Arthur’s wearing, right against his skin as Arthur kisses down his neck, sucking softly down to his collarbone and back up again.  
  
“Said you’re just as crazy about me as I am about you,” Arthur finally answers. He grips Arthur’s hair and hauls him up to kiss him for that, and Arthur loses his rhythm for a second when Merlin just licks his way into Arthur’s mouth, hot and possessive and _still_ confrontational, and brilliant.  
  
“Wait,” Merlin says, breathless, hands fisted in Arthur’s jacket. Somehow Arthur’s hands had found their way beneath Merlin’s shirt and were spread right across the span of his back, and Arthur _had_ wondered whether he’d be able to do that. Merlin distracted him from that delirious thought by pushing him back a little and wriggling his leg onto the other side of Arthur’s so he was cradling Arthur’s hips with his own, before pulling them flush together again with a sigh.  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur starts, but Merlin kisses him again.  
  
Arthur groans into Merlin’s mouth, regardless of the fact that they’re supposed to be being quiet. He tells himself he can’t be blamed. Especially considering this is Merlin and he always manages to rile Arthur up in some way and he's been waiting _months_.  
  
Suddenly Merlin’s overcome by all of this, even in here, the delicious pressure on his cock through their trousers, the amount of waiting they’ve _both_ done, Arthur’s kisses; it hits him in one wave that sends him silently over the edge, jerking his hips and completely powerless to do anything but hang on and keep kissing Arthur.  
  
"Arthur,” Merlin whispers, and Arthur tucks his head into Merlin’s neck, breath stuttering with each snap of his hips. Merlin undoes Arthur’s trousers, and Arthur sucks a bruise onto Merlin’s skin that’s going to stay for _days_. “Come on, I want- I want you to come.”  
  
He wraps his fingers around Arthur’s cock and Arthur bites down _again_. He moves his hand in time with Arthur’s thrusts, letting his head fall back so Arthur can do as he damn well pleases.  
  
“Want it, Arthur, I want you, come for me,” Merlin mutters. Arthur tenses, still thrusting his hips but not even breathing, nails scratching at Merlin’s back through his shirt and coming all over Merlin’s hand, coating his fingers and slicking his cock even more as Merlin jerks him through it.  
  
He stills and slumps heavily against Merlin, chest heaving.  
  
“Fuck,” Merlin says, grimacing as he sobers.  
  
“Mm, later,” Arthur replies, nosing along Merlin’s jaw. He kisses Merlin again before he can get another word out.  
  
“No, wait, Arthur-“ Merlin manages to say when Arthur pulls away for a breath, because they need to get out of there, but is cut off again, laughing as Arthur bites softly on his lip. “Arthur!”  
  
Arthur just chuckles lightly. Still a prat, then.

* * *

21\. 

It’s a dangerous game, maybe, but Merlin is a little addicted to playing it when the opportunity presents itself. And under the multicoloured, blinking lights at the club, the opportunity has definitely presented itself. 

Arthur’s eyes burn into the back of Merlin’s neck as he leans in to talk to the cute DJ (Gwaine). The gesture looks intimate as Gwaine leans across his booth to talk against his ear and Merlin plays it up, laughing even though he’d barely caught half the words over the rumbling bass. 

He turns a little, looking back over his shoulder until he meets Arthur’s eyes and sips slowly at his drink, knowing that Gwaine is watching him swallow. 

He should feel bad about flirting with other blokes in front of his boyfriend even if it’s harmless. It’s just that Arthur gets so jealous, sparking that fierce possessiveness that makes his fingers dig harder into Merlin’s hips when they fuck and sometimes he’ll tie Merlin to the bed as he makes him beg for it. He always looks wild and uncontrolled as he claims Merlin in every way imaginable and Merlin loves it so much that he just can’t stop poking the beast.

***

“Home,” Arthur says, his breath fanning over Merlin’s neck. “Now.”

The tension in Arthur’s voice is easy to detect even through the music that mixes into the words and Merlin nearly spills the rest of his drink all over himself as his hand starts shaking.

***

They’ve only made it to kitchen when Arthur looms over him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” Arthur says as Merlin strips with the grace of a newborn colt.

Merlin scoffs and grins. “Just shut up and give me your dick, Arthur.”

“No,” Arthur says simply as he draws his t-shirt over his head. 

“No?”

“I know you’re doing this shit on purpose, I’m not an idiot, _Mer_ lin. And maybe you don’t deserve my cock up your arse.”

Merlin is embarrassed by the whine that escapes him, especially since Arthur’s grin widens in satisfaction. He _needs_ to be fucked – he doesn’t want all of his hard work at the club to go unrewarded. 

Stepping forwards, he reaches up to kiss Arthur, but Arthur’s hands grip him and the overwhelming strength that Arthur rarely uses is suddenly very present. Merlin gulps in a mouthful of air as he finds himself pushed down onto the kitchen island, Arthur’s hand pressing down on his back. 

The world seems to still for a moment as Merlin takes two ragged breaths, closing his eyes, and then everything speeds up when he feels the first slap. He jerks forwards at the unexpected sting, dropping his head to rest his cheek against the cold surface. 

His skin prickles and when Arthur’s hand comes down twice more in quick succession he can’t help but push into it even if it hurts. He doesn’t mind. When it hurts Arthur’s always on that edge of losing control and Merlin loves it. The feeling of pain entwines with the pleasure, giving it a strange edge that always makes Merlin slightly delirious. 

Arthur’s hand on his back is a steady and warm pressure that grounds him as the slaps come in unpredictable patterns. Just when he thinks there’s a break there’s another one, harder than the next and the pleasure-pain pulses under his skin. 

He moans brokenly into the countertop, ready to break apart from the need to have Arthur just take him until he can’t even think anymore. 

“Please,” he mutters, his fingers clenching against the surface. “ _Please_ just fuck me.”

The slaps stop and Merlin can feel the hand hovering over him. His muscles twitch in anticipation. 

“No,” Arthur says, his voice low. “I’ll spank you until you remember who you’re with. And maybe if you tell me the right answer, I’ll let you come.”

“Fuck,” Merlin hisses as another smack of the hand makes his skin throb. 

He tries to be stubborn, not giving Arthur what he wants, taking the blows as they come until they build one on top of another and he’s physically shaking with want, pushing shamelessly up into the harsh touch of Arthur’s hand. 

“ _Fu_ -” The word dissolves into a needy moan. “You, it’s always you, I lo-, god, I love you so much, it’s always, always you, I don’t, I... _please_. You.”

Meaningless fragments continue to pour out of him when Arthur finally wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock and his vision goes blurry around the edges.

* * *

22\. 

An overpowering scent hit him the moment he entered the room, so strong that Merlin didn't even notice the flowers set out to mask it. Merlin breathed in deeply, reveling in the primal scent; with a jolt, he came to his senses and whispered a spell to block it. There was a part of him that wanted to undo the spell immediately, but that way lay absolute ruin for him.

"Merlin, I'm--"

Arthur was lying on his bed, naked, and completely flushed. There was a thin layer of sweat on him, probably one of the sources of the scent. Or really, all of Arthur was the source of that delicious smell; a whiff of it would make any alpha in Camelot break down Arthur's doors. Just the thought of it made Merlin's cock stir in his trousers, but he wiped his sweaty hands and took a step forward.

Arthur got off the bed and approached Merlin. He fell to his knees at Merlin’s feet, nuzzled his face against Merlin's breeches, and mouthed at his cock through the fabric. It took all of Merlin's self-control to step away from Arthur.

"Want you in me, Merlin," Arthur whined.

Merlin's hands shook as he placed them on Arthur's shoulders and slowly herded him back to the bed. "You know I-- I can't. I have to--"

He had to get Arthur through this heat, and nothing more. No matter how much he wanted to sink into Arthur and mark him as his own.

Arthur nodded and spread his legs wide, and even without the added effect of Arthur's omega scent, Merlin found himself growing hard. He gulped and sat down next to Arthur, tried to keep his eyes trained on Arthur's face and not his hard cock and wet hole. It didn't help much though, not with Arthur's pupils wide and his mouth slack.

"Hurry," Arthur commanded, his voice a combination of his usual authority and his obvious need. Soon, Merlin thought, he'd have to learn a spell to block out sound as well, because his resolve weakened with every single session.

Arthur's guided Merlin's hands down to his hole, practically forcing his fingers in. Merlin let him; it made Arthur feel like he was still control of the situation, to be the one using Merlin's hands as a tool. The angle was all wrong though, and it was easy to see that Arthur wasn't getting what he needed.

Merlin shifted back a bit, until he was at eye-level with Arthur's cock. His mouth watered, just another one of his body's automatic responses that he wished he could hide. With another deep breath--he wanted to smell Arthur, was so glad he couldn't smell Arthur--he set himself to work, opening Arthur up, pressing his slick fingers deep inside.

Arthur wasn't even trying to hold back his gasps or his cries, and Merlin had his other hand inside his breeches before he realized what he was doing. "Arthur, _please_ , you need to be quieter."

"Can't," Arthur countered, and the next moan seemed to reverberate inside Merlin. He went easily when Arthur forced him lower, until Merlin almost had no choice but to take Arthur's cock into his mouth. Not that it was a hardship.

Merlin moaned when that first taste spread across his tongue, sweeter than anybody else Merlin had ever tasted. Alphas could get drunk on omegas, they said, and Merlin was already feeling the effects. Just being near Arthur made his heart beat faster. He wanted to take his time, to draw this process out for as long as he could. He wanted Arthur filling his senses. He wanted--

Arthur started bucking his hips faster, and Merlin crooked his fingers inside of Arthur, to find that spot he was so intimately familiar with now. The only warning he received before Arthur spilled himself was the sudden tug on his hair.

Merlin swallowed it all, drank in Arthur's taste and wished he could have more.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur whispered, and those were the same words he said every time. 

Merlin nodded and tried to keep his expression neutral. "Of course, Sire."

There would be more sessions like this, kept secret from the rest of the court. Four times a year, Prince Arthur found himself sick and bed-ridden.

Already half-asleep, Arthur murmured, "I'm glad you aren't an alpha."

After all, no alpha would ever be allowed near the crown prince. 

Merlin hoped his smile looked genuine as he said, "Me too."


	5. Group B (clean)

23.

Merlin groaned as he laid back against his bed. His body was sheened in sweat as his hand moved up and down over his cock.

He thought about quickening his movements, because he didn't really have that much time, but it had been so long since he'd had a good wank.

Working in a circus had its advantages, but lots of spare time was not one of them. And privacy? That was practically unheard of.

So he was determined to enjoy this.

He groaned and bit his fist when someone banged loudly on the side of his trailer. " _Mer_ lin!"

"Go Away!" He pinched the base of his cock to stave off the rising pressure, and knocked his head back against the pillow in frustration as he recognized the voice of Arthur the lion tamer.

He had just long enough to be grateful that he'd remember to lock the door, when Arthur did a funny little jiggle to the handle, and it swung open.

"Shit!" Merlin quickly flipped over to hide his erection, and glared daggers at Arthur's silhouetted figure.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Uh...stretching?"

Arthur humphed and sat on the side of the bed, his dark eyes raking curiously over Merlin's slender body. Being a contortionist meant that he was particularly _proud_ of his body, and having Arthur outright admire it only made his cock harder beneath him.

"Stretching hmm? Maybe I can help you then."

Arthur didn't hesitate to reach out and run a hand along his back. The touch was feather light as Arthur traced a line upwards, along the ridges of his spine, and then outward to catch his wrists. Arthur gently began to coax Merlin's arms backward, stretching the muscles until his upper body began to rise off the bed, arching his back into a bow that would have been painful for anyone else.

The stretch felt _good_ , combined with the ache that still burned in his groin.

"Now, the other way," Arthur's voice was husky, and Merlin knew then, that Arthur had seen him, that Arthur knew how aroused he was.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to protest when Arthur released his arms gently and grasped one of his ankles. He was insistent as he drew Merlin's leg backward, further and further, putting pressure on his calf until he felt his lower body begin to lift off the bed.

His cock twitched fiercely as some of the pressure was relieved. Arthur chuckled softly, and then gasped when the drop of cum that had dribbled at the dip clung stubbornly to the sheets, stretching across the short distance Arthur's manipulation of his body had created.

"God Merlin," Arthur breathed, and then, "Will you let me try..." He trailed off and released Merlin's legs, and before Merlin could say anything, Arthur rolled him over so that his cock bobbed, desperate, in the air.

"Arthur," Merlin looked up at the man that he'd wanted for so long. Arthur stared at him in return, and he seemed to read the look in Merlin's eyes, because his own softened. "I'm not going to hurt you Merlin. But please, will you do this for me?" He took hold of Merlin's arms again and drew him forward into a kiss, before drawing off and continuing with the stretch until...

Merlin jerked his head up as he understood what Arthur wanted from him.

"It'll be okay," Arthur soothed, and when he pressed further, a gentle unrelenting pressure at the back of his neck, Merlin allowed it.

"Open up," Arthur husked, one hand tracing at the corner of Merlin's mouth. And he did. Merlin opened his mouth, and before he could think about it anymore, swallowed his own cock.

The sensation was... it was odd, and strangely wonderful, and Merlin had always wondered in the back of his mind if he could do this, and now he knew he could...

He gasped, and the vibrations of it sent a shudder singing down his spine in spiraling loops of pleasure.

"That's it Merlin. Suck your own cock. Is it good?"

Merlin looked up through his lashes and watched as Arthur pulled his own cock out and began stroking it desperately. 

And somehow, _he_ was the one that looked debauched, with his dark eyes and his cock sticking obscenely out of his too colorful costume.

And that, _that_ was the last straw, and suddenly he was coming, the bitter fluid shooting into his own throat, surprising him.

* * *

24\. 

Arthur was made to wait three infuriating days before the King of the Dragons summoned him, but instead of being brought to the throne room, the servant led Arthur to his Majesty's private chambers.

Merlin stood beside the desk, his head bowed as he studied a scroll. The servant lingered and said, "If you please, I shall be interpreting --"

"There's no need," Arthur said curtly. "I learned the language of the hands. I understand him _just fine._ "

The servant glanced at Merlin uncertainly, but Merlin waved him away. It wasn't until the door clicked shut that Arthur said, "Can we hasten this along? Is it a yes or a no? I have defenses to plan."

Merlin turned around; Arthur saw the pull of a smirk on those gorgeous lips. Merlin raised his hands and gestured, "You ask for too much."

"An alliance is too much?" Arthur scoffed. "Your people are as much at risk as mine."

"I should bow to your command, and yours alone?" Merlin snorted. "But, I will concede to your terms, if..."

Arthur grasped at slim hope. "If?" 

"If you take me as your advisor. But --" Merlin raised a hand to silence Arthur's ready agreement. "I must be certain that you can listen to me."

"I'll consider --"

" _You'll listen_ \--" Merlin said out loud, his voice dragon-rough and deep. It reverberated in the room with the tease of hot breath on lips, the scratch of claws on skin, the maddening tongue licking between arse cheeks, easing toward his hole. A hot surge of arousal trembled through Arthur's body. "-- _and you'll obey._ "

Sweat beaded on Arthur's brow. His hands clenched into fists. His cock was half-hard in his breeches.

Arthur had heard rumours about the Dragon King's voice. That one would tremble and cower to hear him speak. But nothing prepared him for _this_ suffocating desire to fuck and be fucked.

Merlin raised his brows in surprise. He tilted his head and made a soft purring noise, as if he were inordinately pleased by Arthur's reaction. 

"Interesting," he signed. "I've never had that response before."

"Don't play games --" Arthur warned.

"I'm quite serious. I am content to submit to your rule, but..." Merlin dropped his hands. " _Only if you submit to mine._ "

A frisson ran down Arthur's spine. His cock was full, now, flush and hard, pushing against his underclothes and chainmail.

"F-- Fuck!" Arthur gasped. He walked awkwardly toward the door. He refused to embarrass himself any more.

" _Stay,_ " Merlin said. " _Please._ "

It was the "please" that did it, because Arthur sank against the frame, his forehead against the wood. He used his body to hide the way he palmed and pulled at his cock under the chainmail.

" _Stop. Let me,_ " Merlin said, soft, soothing, rumbling, low.

Arthur resisted, sweat dripping down his spine, but in the end, he put his hands on the wall, his limbs trembling. 

A different kind of shiver tickled his body like snowflakes on a cold winter day, and he was only dimly aware of his armour falling apart, his belt unravelling and all of it clattering to the floor. 

" _Turn around,_ " Merlin said. Arthur did, and found Merlin within reach. " _No._ "

Arthur dropped his hand in frustration. His hips canted toward Merlin; his breeches slipped down his thighs.

" _I want to suck you,_ " Merlin whispered, the grumble in his voice a gentle caress. " _I want to fuck you. I_ will _fuck you. But not today. If you wish to ally, you will obey._ "

Arthur closed his eyes. He tried to mask his moan. The low treble of Merlin's voice drowned his senses until he could only feel that rumble on his skin. His heartbeat thrummed, frantic. His cock ached and twitched for relief.

He reached for his cock again. His hand was swatted away with a word. " _No._ "

Merlin nuzzled Arthur's throat and pushed his thigh between Arthur's legs. There was pressure, but nowhere near enough. He rutted against Merlin.

"Gods. P--please."

" _To my voice alone, Arthur,_ " Merlin whispered. It was a guttural growl that woke every nerve.

Arthur stilled his hips with difficulty.

" _Look at me._ "

Arthur moaned when he saw Merlin's blue eyes ringed with gold, the pupils a reptilian slash.

" _Come for me._ "

The low roar of Merlin's command curled around Arthur's cock as sure as if it were a hand, the vibrations coursing over his skin. He throbbed, trembled, and came.

* * *

25\. 

"Have you ever been kissed?" The older brunette stared him down.

"Of course I have." Gwaine was a little hurt that someone would even question his sexual experience. After all he WAS the go to guy in his school for sexy information.

"I can tell by looking at you that you haven't. And I don't date boys that have never been kissed."

"Then don't date me. Let me show you that I can at least give a kiss."

"Not give one. Get one. And no it won't be from me that you have your first kiss no matter how pretty your hair is." 

Morgana, the queen of St. Mary's Preparatory, would have been a coo if Gwaine could get even a good feel of those amazing tits. Instead the girl had some kind of misguided notion that _Gwaine_ was pure enough to not even have had a kiss.

Laughable.

Gwaine wasn't the kind of guy to take no for an answer. He needed more information, insider information. 

And so as he stood outside of her cousin, Arthur Pendragon's, dorm room. He figured he could discover how to convince the lady fair of his sexual prowess. 

"Kiss me. Yeah. Just like that. Oh God Arthur. So fucking good." 

Or maybe Gwaine should come back later when 'Princess' a.ka. Arthur-Pratly-Pendragon, wasn't entertaining a guest.

"Fuck, Your lips are amazing."

Gwaine stopped in his tracks. How was all that moaning and talking going on(from what sounded like his lab partner Merlin), if Arthur was successfully kissing him within an inch of his life?

Gwaine turned back around to listen in at Pendragon's door. Not that he had to get too close to hear the filthy things loudly rolling out of Merlin's mouth.

"So Good, Yeah you like licking me open. Oh god. Your tongue. More. Fuck me with it. Yeah. Shit."

Every word a heavily panted syllable, a grunt of movement like Merlin was being fucked apart and yet almost no sounds from Arthur.

Gwaine wanted to know what they were doing. His mother was a nurse and thus Gwaine had plenty of sexual knowledge on how things went between men and women complete with diagrams. His education on what boys did was a little lacking. Especially if Arthur was kissing Merlin open?

Oh. Ooooah.

Well that was a kiss he had never been 'given'. Was that what Morgana meant? That no one had touched or licked him...there? 

Gwaine's face flushed and his cock grew hard almost instantly. Listening in on Merlin and Arthur hadn't been the main reason, even though they made a perfectly viable porn soundtrack. It was the image of someone doing that to him, gnawing him open with their lips and tongue, nipping at him lightly with teeth.

Gwaine shivered.

He wanted to see what it looked like. A brief glance to confirm the image in his head, and maybe spank to before finding someone to give him a good long 'kiss'.

He cracked open the door. (had they been in such a rush as to not even lock it?) 

Dirty slurping snuffling sounds of Arthur's desperation to eat more of Merlin's hole made Gwaine shake with ideas about his own pleasure. Gwaine wanted a face buried deep enough to only breath him in.

"Fuck yes, Arthur." 

The image was nothing like the one in Gwaine's mind. Through the sliver of light escaping Arthur's door, Merlin circled his hips, rubbed his fingers over his nipples and hummed out his content. He was sitting up, butt firmly smashed down into Pendragon's working jawline.

Gwaine fought back a moan looking at two cocks full and bouncing to every contraction of Merlin's thighs around Arthur's head.

Merlin's eyes met Gwaine's, and after only a short gasp of acknowledgement, he stroke his cock above Arthur's throat and chest.

Gwaine rubbed himself as he imagined riding Morgana's lips as he came all over those perfect tits. Then licking up every drop just like Merlin would no doubt do.

His knees buckled, his grip on the door frame tightened, and his eyes blurred back to the reality of Merlin thrusting into his fist and splattering every last drop like a trail from Arthur's belly to his lips.

"Fuck" Gwaine cursed in his mind as he came unashamed and now highly motivated in his pants.

He needed a kissed.

* * *

26\. 

Until I'll be whole again 

"Father! Please!" Arthur was not above begging, not this time.

"No." Uther's voice is cold and dark, his face a mask of fury. "The traitorous boy has shown his true nature and he will be executed at dawn."

&&&  
Arthur paced the length of his room as he waited.

"You sent for me sire?" Leon's voice was calm, his tone and face not betraying the anxiety he felt, but Arthur knew better.

"We are going to save him."

Leon's face split in a grin and he nodded. "I knew it sire, the men are ready."

Arthur smirked, his knights loyalty was just that, his.

&&&  
Merlin shrunk back in his cell as he heard footsteps descending down the steps, his face brightened when he recognized the mop of blond hair that appeared.

"Arthur!" Merlin called brightly and rushed over to the bars. "I, I didn't think you'd come, I was sure your father-" 

"He tried, he should have known better." Arthur growled when Leon appeared with the keys.

Merlin was baffled. "Arthur? What are you-"

"Getting you out of course, my future court sorcerer can't die at the stake at dawn, obviously." Arthur said with a smirk while Merlin stared at him open mouthed. "Now come on, we don't have much time."

&&&  
Arthur's hand gripped Merlin's as tightly as he could while they made their way out of the city.

"Go back to the cathedral Leon and make sure no one has noticed we are missing yet."

"Yes sire." Leon said and turned to leave before turning back and clasping Merlin's forearm. "Take care Merlin." He whispered before he turned around and left.

"Right, let's go." Arthur tugged Merlin's hand and they left the city, heading towards the forest.

"Come on Merlin keep up!" Arthur whispered urgently, he had no idea how long it will take for his father's men to realize he was gone from his rooms and to alert his father, Merlin had to be away from Camelot as could be.

"Arthur, Arthur stop," Merlin whizzed. "We are already in the woods; I can handle it from here."

"No you can't," Arthur snarled and his hand tightened on Merlin's. "You can't do anything right."

"Excuse me?!" Merlin exclaimed. "You are alive aren't you? Meaning I can do something right!"

Arthur whirled around and slammed Merlin against a tree. "You got caught and sentenced to death!" He yelled in Merlin's face. "How does that count as doing something right?!"

Merlin swallowed and looked away.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's chin and turned his face so he would look at him.

"Promise me you will stay safe Merlin," Arthur whispered, his grip on Merlin's bicep tightening. "Promise me you'll stay safe until I can come and bring you back."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Arthur I-" 

Arthur growled and claimed Merlin's mouth in a bruising kiss, they didn't have much time as it were and he couldn't stand letting Merlin go without him knowing…

"How long?" Merlin whispered after they broke apart.

"Since the first time I saw you, I just wanted to grab you and never let you leave my room," Arthur's hands tore Merlin's neckerchief away and his lips pressed tiny kisses to that long, pale neck. "Never leave my bed." He added and Merlin moaned when he sucked on his pulse point, worrying the skin and biting as hard as he could, the need to leave his mark on Merlin, a remainder for him was overwhelming.

"Arthur, Arthur," Merlin whimpered and Arthur's hands loosened their breeches, pushing the offending fabric down to their ankles.

"Oh gods Merlin," Arthur panted against the magnificent dark bruise he created on Merlin's neck. "This isn't how I wanted to do this," He said as his hand wrapped around their slick erections. "I wanted to make love to you in my bed, our bed, caress that gorgeous body of your all night, and have you screaming my name until you can't speak." Arthur's hand sped up and Merlin writhed in his arms.

"We will, I swear Arthur we will."

"You promise?" Arthur gasped when he felt Merlin's hot essence between them.

"I do."

"I love you." Arthur whispered into Merlin's mouth and sealed it with another kiss.

&&&

The dawn was fast approaching and Arthur knew he had to leave but…

"Go." Merlin said as he pushed Arthur gently.

"You'll be back." Arthur said and pulled Merlin in for another kiss.

"I will, I swear."

Arthur watched as he disappeared among the woods, taking his heart with him.

Someday, he vowed, someday he will be whole again.

* * *

27.

“I’m ready,” Arthur announces, lying on his stomach. “Get on with it.”

“You could be a little more gracious. This _is_ for your protection.”

Arthur scoffs. “I’m indulging this silliness, Merlin. That’s plenty gracious.”

He can almost hear Merlin’s eyeroll, as a creaky dip in the bed heralds him clambering up. A silent moment stretches just long enough for Arthur to feel extremely exposed, struggling to remember why he’d agreed to this.

Merlin’s hands are steady and warm when they finally touch his shoulder. It’s like a rub-down after a tourney, in that they’re familiarly rough and bony, but also not, in that they’re not pummeling him senseless. Instead, they etch Arthur’s skin like they’re quills and he’s parchment.

Arthur’s eyes sliver open. He can make light of it now, but he’ll never stop being curious about magic, especially Merlin’s, hidden in plain sight all those years. His eyes chase Merlin’s fingertips, and Arthur will _never_ be used to this, never _not_ shiver at the unpredictable thrill of the supernatural, never _not_ be awed by the power Merlin possesses, though he’d sooner eat rats than tell how it fascinates him.

Merlin concentrates on his hands as they skate over Arthur’s bicep and forearm. He draws glowing symbols and mouths words Arthur doesn’t recognise, and the prickling on his skin turns into piercing heat as the magic seeps bone-deep, flooding his very blood. Feverish ribbons wend through his veins and Arthur gasps at the intimate intrusion, and at the guttural sounds falling from Merlin’s mouth. Which...was it _always_ so pink?

_Oh God._

Arthur feels like an intruder in his own skin. He's suddenly parched, but he can’t interrupt, doesn’t ever want Merlin to stop speaking with that mystic intent.

Thickening against the bed, Arthur silently endures Merlin scratching incantations over his arms and legs. He feels frayed, loose and tight and hot and cold, and when Merlin’s fingertips glance the crease high on his thighs, he shudders, unable to stop himself from bucking, feeling every heartbeat in the throb of his cock trapped beneath.

Merlin hums and Arthur could just die from embarrassment, but the scribing doesn’t stop. Merlin’s fingers still dance over his shoulders, neck, and the dip of his spine. He drags gold letters into the dimples at the small of Arthur’s back, skims over his tailbone only to come back to it again and again, and gently topple into the cleft between.

Arthur’s mouth falls open, lungs scraped of breath.

For a moment, he thinks Merlin knows he’s gone too far, but _of course_ not, because it’s _Merlin_. Instead of mortification, Arthur gets Merlin’s knees between his own, and then he’s nudged open, Merlin a sleek wedge between Arthur’s legs, easing them apart with inexorable will.

Arthur should put a stop to this, but Merlin’s words glint like shaved metal from his mouth, and then he’s hoarsely muttering spells against the inside of Arthur’s thigh, sending hot breath over flesh so sensitised, Arthur thinks he’s going to burst into flames if Merlin doesn’t do something, _anything_ \--

Merlin’s hand skirts up Arthur’s back, then pivots at the wrist to slide fingers-first down his arse, and Arthur can’t help it, he bucks into the bed, collecting Merlin’s splayed fingers around his balls, and his thumb over his hole on the upstroke.

There’s a surprised, deep groan, which Arthur realises is his because Merlin’s still chanting, ribbons of words curling around Arthur’s sac and the base of his cock, along with hot fingers.

The shock of Merlin’s tongue sends Arthur’s insides into a hot clench and his knees slide out. He sucks shallow breaths as Merlin eats him, burrowing his face into Arthur’s flesh, digging in with fingers and tongue, kissing and whispering, making waves of heat burst through the lattice of Arthur’s ribs. And _oh God_ , Arthur has experienced the steady unfurling of a climax at his own convenient touch or that of whores, but this is _nothing_ like that, this relentless pleasure wrenched from deep in his gut where Merlin’s magic makes everything hotter and brighter and golden. 

Merlin’s mouth is all over him, sucking and kissing and wetly licking, and _fuck_ , Merlin _loves it_ , Arthur can feel him groaning against the base of his cock as he curls his tongue around it. He fingers, spreads and probes until Arthur’s coming, fucking himself to pieces into crushed coverlets.

It takes forever to breathe again.

Merlin’s a dead weight, face mashed into Arthur’s thigh.

“I will _graciously_ not kill you for this transgression.” Probably should have waited until the panting was under control to speak. “And stop smirking.”

* * *

28.

Merlin thinks briefly about clothes, but doesn’t see the point. His mind is taken with the logic of the small hours: he’s woken up alone, and he doesn’t want to be alone. He’s woken up hard, and he wants to do something about it.

And Sir Gwaine’s quarters are not so far, and Court Sorcerer Merlin is not so easily spotted these days by anyone he does not care to see him. He is a shadow in the corridor, fast and fleeting, and he slips into Gwaine’s room without a sound. With the door closed behind him, Merlin pauses to admire the view: Gwaine lying on his back, one crisp linen sheet pulled up to his waist, his chest bare, his hair in disarray.

Merlin climbs onto the bed, knees on either side of Gwaine’s. As the mattress dips, Gwaine stirs, but makes no effort to sit up, just smiles, slow and wide. Merlin crawls up his body, supporting himself on his elbows, pressing their bodies flush together while he looks down into Gwaine’s eyes. “Hello,” he says.

“And yourself,” Gwaine says, before pushing up to meet Merlin’s mouth, slipping his tongue straight in, no preamble. This is something Merlin loves, the way the dead hours of morning take the edge off thought, leave instinct naked and gleaming in the moonlight instead.

Gwaine’s muscled chest feels fantastic against his own, and Merlin works a hand in between their bodies to enjoy it all the better, skimming over planes and valleys, ending with a soft flick to Gwaine’s nipple that makes the man’s hips jerk. Merlin bears down instinctively with his own hips while he chases that success, framing Gwaine's nipple with two fingers and rolling back and forth. He’s slow and insistent with it, and Gwaine growls before thrusting his tongue deeper into Merlin’s mouth.

Gwaine is every bit as naked under the sheet as Merlin is above it; Merlin learned by his example, after all, to prefer nothing but cool linen on his skin on a summer night, to chafe at the restriction of trousers or tunic. Abandoning Gwaine’s chest for now, Merlin runs his hand down Gwaine's side, coming to rest on the warm jut of his hip. He could pull the sheet out of the way and feel more of Gwaine's warmth, let the heat of his cock rest deliciously heavy against his own, and he will, but not yet. The extra layer of friction is nice, both for what it is and for the promise it offers of more good things to come.

He drags his hips up, and back, and Gwaine matches him eagerly, the tip of his cock jutting hard into Merlin's stomach. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Gwaine asks hoarsely, voice thick with sleep and want. "Was it a dream that woke you?"

"It was," Merlin says into the skin of Gwaine's neck, before angling up to pull at Gwaine's earlobe.

"Well," Gwaine says, "I very much hope I was in it."

“Let me think,” Merlin says, humming a bit. “Do you have the most relentless mouth I know? I think you may.”

“Let’s find out,” Gwaine says, flipping them over so that Merlin’s the one on his back, kicking the bed linen away in the process; Merlin sucks in a breath at the first bare touch of their cocks together, and Gwaine grins, teeth flashing the moonlight. He pauses to wrap his hand around them both together, and jerk them three slow, steady times before letting go and sliding his way down Merlin’s body. “Tell me if it gets too much, now,” he says, just before closing his mouth over Merlin’s cock and flattening his tongue to the slit.

“Never fear,” Merlin says, gasping a little already. And there’s another benefit to the powers of a Court Sorcerer: whether Gwaine makes him shout or sob, whether he whimpers or whispers quiet things, loving things, no-one will hear outside this room.

Gwaine _is_ relentless, mouth and mind and spirit, and Merlin has never felt quite so free.

* * *

29.

As heroic deeds go, saving the world is a pretty crap deal. Nobody ever talks about the part where you die, cold and alone, long after the love of your life has shuffled off his mortal coil as part of your epic world-saving quest. Either that, or you die first, not knowing when or if you will ever meet again. Almost easier, if you could simply lie down and let the end take you together.

 _No,_ he told you the last time, when you put forward the thought. _I know you better than that. You could never leave your people to suffer for one man._

But he's wrong. You would have given up everything for him, every time, but for his simple faith in your nobility that you dare not break.

And the thing about second and third and fourth chances - what people these days call reincarnation - they never work out. If you couldn't get it right the first time, without the tangle of history and expectations confusing issues all around, what are the odds that you'll figure out your happy ending, or that any ending would stay happy and not get fucked up next time round?

There is a light rap on the door; only perfunctory - Merlin comes straight in without waiting for a response, which you suppose is an improvement on the first life, when he used to slam the door open and yank the curtains apart to wake you.

"Is it time to wake already?" you ask, even though the horizon is still dark, and the moon is yet high in the night sky.

Merlin pads quietly across the room on bare feet, climbing onto your bed and tucking his slight frame into your side, his face turned trustingly into your shoulder. It is years and lifetimes of custom and loneliness that draws your arm about his shoulders to pull him closer. He sighs, breathes soft heat into your neck, and the warm press of his body spreads reflexive tingling all through your body, down to your fingers and toes with keen awareness of his proximity.

"What is it, have you remembered something?" you ask gruffly, raising one knee to try to hide your body's natural response to his, even despite his current appearance - too young, _far too young_ , barely half your age and you not yet thirty - how did you and he end up born so far apart, with so little time together before it came to this again? Another doomed ride round the wheel of fortune -

You've missed something important while railing at destiny, because Merlin is smiling sad and sweet, and leaning up to kiss the corner of your mouth; chastely, you think until he rises to his knees and straddles you with grim determination, and your breath stops.

Your hands are on his narrow hips, frozen in shock as he licks past your chapped lips into your mouth familiarly, grinds his small bottom perfectly into your hard cock just the way he used to, and it takes you a shamefully long time to stop sucking desperately at his tongue and push him away when all your mind is filled with images of pressing him into the bed, his slim wrists pinned over his head, and _devouring_ that pale skin and the small tight nipples, sucking at the delicate young flesh between his legs - you push him away, gasping like a drowning man, "Merlin, stop! We can't."

"Arthur, I remember," he says, shaking, eyes bright and wet. "I remember, and tomorrow... please. Let me - " He lunges for your mouth again, and he tastes of salt and blood and thwarted love, and because you could never deny him, you kiss him, his mouth, his eyes and temples while he chokes back silent tears and clutches at you like a child heartbroken.

Sometime before daybreak, he lets himself be soothed. You let him jerk you off with an uncertain grip, let him rub himself off on you, and whisper into his ears, "Next time - next time, we'll let the future hang, and we'll lie together under the old oak tree, or a younger one if that one isn't there anymore, and we'll be kings of the present. Next time."

"Next time," he agrees, lying quiescent in your arms as light stains the horizon. "This time, we kick destiny's arse and make our own future."

And you think, maybe you will. Together.

* * *

30.

Morgana slips the harness on over her panties. It feels better if she’s bare underneath, giving Gwaine access to her cunt, but she’s planning on going for a while, and the harness chafes like a motherfucker if she’s bare. 

She fastens the dildo in, and it ceases to be just another dildo and becomes her dick. Her very own. She looks in the mirror, giving a little shake of her hips to watch it wiggle. That shit will NEVER get old. 

Gwaine’s naked and standing at the foot of the bed, just like she had told him. She hits the bathroom light on her way out and crosses to him. “Hi,” she smiles, pushing up on her toes for a kiss. Gwaine moans, twitching, and that can’t be from just a kiss. She looks down, to where her the silicone head of her cock is brushing the underside of his. She can’t hold the position for much longer, and when she drops to flat feet again, Gwaine’s hips twitch at the loss. 

Morgana abandons her previous plan. “Lie back, darling.” She crowds up against him, moving forward as he moves back, barely giving him time to settle flat before she’s straddling his hips, their cocks brushing together. Gwaine’s breath hitches, hips moving up to catch the friction again. 

“You’re so wound,” She murmurs, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, imagining me spreading you open and fucking you silly.” 

Morgana shifts, putting her weight in her knees to reach down with her other hand to hold both their cocks together. “How long has it been?”

Gwaine doesn’t answer, and Morgana pulls on the handful of hair in her hand, yanking his head back to expose his neck. She bites at his throat, sharp teeth scraping against warm skin. “Answer me, Gwaine. How long has it been since you’ve come?”

“Four- ngh, five days.” Gwaine answers. 

“Good,” She soothes the bites with her tongue, letting up on his hair. “Do you think you’ve earned the chance today?” 

“Yes!” Gwaine answers, too quick. “Yes, please.”

Morgana chuckles, bending to kiss him. “Okay, you’ll get it, then. But first,” She trails off, shuffling forward towards Gwaine’s head. She braces on the headboard, knees on either side of his head. “Suck,” she commands, grabbing another handful of his hair and tugging his mouth to her cock. 

He goes, eagerly sucking her cock down as far as he can. Gwaine’s mouth looks sinful, plump lips flushed, tight around the head of her cock. He makes a big show of it, pulling off slowly to lick at the shaft and head. 

“You look so good like that, gorgeous.” Morgana moans. Even if she can’t feel it, she’s still getting off on the show, the sight of her man sucking cock. 

They had double teamed Merlin once, the first time she had ever watched him suck dick. He had looked so content on his knees in front of Merlin, and Morgana abandoned her original plan of having them both penetrate her to grab him by the hair and force him further down Merlin’s cock. 

His damn hair and the way he’s always making her change her plans. He’s going to be the death of her one day. 

Like now, he abandons her cock to wiggle down in between her legs. He licks at her through the panties, sucking where she’s soaked them through. She immediately regrets not taking them off. 

Desperate, she reaches in between them to pull the crotch of her panties aside. It’s tough, the cloth wet and the straps of the harness tight, but she gets them aside and Gwaine plunges back in, licking and sucking at her clit. His breath is hot against her, little huffs of muffled moan against her wetness, and she rocks into his mouth. 

“Yeah, fuck,” Morgana moans, stilling as she comes her clit pulsing between his lips and pussy drenching his chin.

* * *

31.

“You, my dear girl,” Morgana intoned, flicking cigarette ash onto the ground next to her chair, “need to get someone to take care of that for you.” Then she smiled, and it was almost feral. “Or I can, if you like.”

Gwen laughed, and shook her head. “I know you get points for every girl you convert, but we know how this goes.”

“Yes, yes, tragically, we do.” She looked at Gwen fondly. “But the offer still stands, you know.” She waved her fag around meaningfully. “Should you need it.”

Gwen smiled as well, just as fondly. “I know.”

*

The first one was too hard.

“Gwaine,” she panted, “Gwaine, stop.”

And he looked up at her, from where he was between her thighs, and she suddenly felt incredibly naked, even though she’d been without clothes for nigh on twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of him rooting around like a forest creature, him having fingernails far too scratchy, him seeming to think that if he pressed _harder_ , things would work better.

She sighed, tried to smile. “Come on up here, now,” she said. And he was only too happy to oblige.

*

The second one was too soft.

“Lance,” she said, cajolingly, “Lance, come on.”

And he looked up at her, from where he was between her thighs, and she suddenly felt incredibly sad, even though they’d had a great evening and he was so very _earnest_. Earnest as he kissed every bit of her skin in equal measure for what seemed like a very long time, earnest as he lapped at her folds in slow careful licks, as if she were hiding a light socket or a flagpole, earnest as his fingers grazed around her entrance but never ventured in. 

She sighed, and smiled, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Come on up here, then,” she said. And he smiled, and loved her, and was only too happy to oblige.

*

The third one, though. The third one was _just right_.

“Arthur—Oh holy _fuck_ , Arthur, don’t fucking stop—” She clapped a hand over her mouth, not believing she’d just let slip something so porno-sounding. She felt a sound rumble into her skin and looked down.

But he only looked up at her for a moment, from where he was between her thighs. He had a glint in his eyes, and a slight furrow of concentration between his brows, as he focused on the task at hand. And she suddenly felt light as air, because _this_ — this was right. His strong, blunt fingers inside of her, pressing exactly in the right place as if made for it, were right; his clever tongue one moment flat and sweet against her inner sex then sharp and lovely against her clit, was oh so right; and his clear arousal, the flush of his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes and the noises he made against her skin, was most right of all.

“You,” she said, tucking her fingers into his hair and holding on tight, “can stay right down there.”

*

Morgana took one look at her and threw her head back and laughed. Gwen felt her cheeks pink, but couldn’t help the grin on her face. “Well, good to know my brother isn’t entirely useless.”

Gwen laughed a little herself. “He apologises; he knew you wanted those points.”

“Yes, tell him he owes me.” She looked at Gwen, reconsidering. “No, on second thought. Tell him he owes _you_. For a lifetime.”

Gwen’s cheeks pinked further, but she smiled, thinking fondly of morning sunlight and toast in bed. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

* * *

32\. 

“You know,” Merlin huffed as he maneuvered Arthur through the door of their flat, “if you weren’t so competitive you wouldn’t have been injured.”

Arthur grunted. He leaned heavily on Merlin, his arm draped across Merlin’s shoulders as he limped, his footie kit soaked with sweat, his leg twitching in pain. He knew for certain he had strained a muscle on that last play and it was a painful spasm each time he took a step. 

“This from the man that sprained his thumb playing a video game,” Arthur ground out through clenched teeth. 

“That,” Merlin answered seriously, “was a matter of honour. This was pick-up game with our mates.”

Arthur let out another grunt and it had Merlin looking up at him concerned. 

“Do I need to take you to the A&E?”

“No,” Arthur sighed. “It’s only a strain.”

Five excruciating minutes later, Arthur was sat on the edge of their bed, shirt on the floor and Merlin kneeling between his legs slipping off Arthur’s shoes and socks.

“Show me where it hurts,” Merlin said.

Arthur pointed to the back of his right thigh where the muscle burned and jumped beneath the skin.

“Flip over,” Merlin said with a small push to Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur did as he was told, laid on his stomach amidst the pillows and sheets, relaxing into them as he felt the bed dip where Merlin settled next to him. Merlin’s hands were warm as they traced over the sensitive skin of Arthur’s leg, raising goosebumps in their wake and Arthur shivered. 

Merlin hummed as the pressure increased and then his strong fingers were massaging hard into the muscle.

Arthur let out a moan and he shuddered, cock growing hard at the intense pleasure-pain as Merlin dug his fingers in, worked out the knots, fingers splayed warm and intimate on Arthur’s skin. 

He hit a particularly painful spot and Arthur jerked forward, hips pistoning into the mattress, cock finding fiction in the bed beneath him. 

“Fuck!” Arthur yelled.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Merlin said, wincing, pulling his hands away. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” Arthur hissed.

There was a moment when Merlin didn’t move but then Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers tentatively sliding up the inside of his thigh. 

“You getting off on this?” he asked, voice low.

Arthur swallowed, pushed his hips down meaningfully. 

“Fuck! You are! That’s brilliant!”

Then Merlin’s hands were in the waistband of Arthur’s shorts and pulling them and his pants off. Arthur’s cock springs free and he sighed at the feeling of the cool sheets beneath him and Merlin’s hot hands back on his leg. 

Merlin massaged Arthur’s arse, pulled his cheeks apart, thumb running teasingly over Arthur’s hole, pushing on the ring of muscle. Arthur bucked and Merlin placed his palm on the small of Arthur’s back, calming him. 

“Let me make you feel good,” Merlin whispered. “Relax.”

Arthur let out a shaky breath, allowed the tension to seep out of him and certainly did not yelp when he felt Merlin’s tongue lick across his entrance. Merlin let out a chuckle and then dove in, tongue laving over Arthur’s hole. 

“Fuck!” Arthur whimpered at the feel of Merlin’s tongue, sloppy with spit, fucking into him. 

Arthur rutted, shamelessly, hips pushing hard into the bed, sweat dripping down his spine as Merlin ate him out, sucked and licked like Arthur was a feast. 

He was so close, so very close, balls drawn up tight, toes curled, his leg a distant ache. He reached down, gripped his leaking cock, pulled relentlessly just as Merlin slid two fingers in him. 

He came with a shout, back arched, pleasure cresting over him in a wave before collapsing in the wet spot. 

He felt Merlin climb over him, straddle him, Merlin’s jeans a soft scrape on Arthur’s overheated skin. He heard the telltale sounds of Merlin stroking himself, jerking off furiously while he moaned Arthur’s name and filthy endearments about how Arthur tasted, how he looked as Merlin fucked him with his tongue. 

Merlin came with a groan and Arthur felt the hot splash of come on his back mixing with the sweat gathered there. 

Merlin fell next to him on the bed, smiling as he shucked off his jeans, petting Arthur’s sweat-soaked hair. 

“How do you feel?” Merlin asked, using the edge of the sheet to clean them up. 

Arthur smiled, blissed out. “Better,” he answered. “Not cured though. I think I’ll need another massage in a few hours.”

Merlin smiled. “That can be arranged.”

* * *

33\. 

"I admit I wasn't expecting this," Merlin says. He splays his hand across the metal of the belt. His fingertips skim and scorch the skin just above it.

Arthur tries to control his breathing, tries not to feel so horrifically disappointed. He knew this moment had to come, had, stupidly, put it off, so it's hardly a surprise. There's nothing he can do about it now. 

He tries to pull away, but Merlin only hooks his fingers into the chastity belt and kisses him again, on the jaw. His eyelashes sweep along Arthur's cheek and Merlin's voice is close to his ear when he says, "I was looking forward to being fucked, too," almost philosophically, and Arthur's throat goes entirely dry. 

He licks his lips, watching Merlin's kissed-pink ones. "We could, we could make do."

"Really?" Merlin asks. He sounds genuinely curious, and before Arthur can protest has his hands all over the belt, reaching _back_. "Your father is definitely thorough," he finally says, looking put out. He brings his hands back up, now smoothing them across Arthur's nipples in a fond, nearly absent-minded way. Arthur leans into it, though it's hardly helping matters, and almost misses Merlin saying, "So it's not as though I can fuck you, either."

Arthur swallows. He'd not even let himself consider that.

Merlin must see him flushing. "You like that," he says, sounding pleased.

"It's pointless. George has the keys," he says. The face Merlin makes is hilarious, and, all right, almost horribly endearing. 

"Let's never talk about George while we, well. You and he have never--"

"Merlin! He's in charge of my chastity, he'd hardly compromise it himself, would he?" 

"I would," Merlin says hotly, and Arthur kisses him one more time on the lips, hard, and slips to his knees. 

"Anyway. I actually meant something more like this." He palms Merlin through his trousers. 

"Oh," Merlin says. "You don't have to..." He's already hard where Arthur cups him, strokes him through the fabric.

He leans forward just to breathe him in, mouth almost watering. "I want, I need to. Let me," he says, trying not to make it sound like a plea.

Merlin almost whimpers when Arthur opens his trousers and slides one hand around his red, curving cock.

He's never done this before and the skin there is surprisingly soft, a little bitter as Arthur sucks at it experimentally. Merlin swears above him. "I'm going to have you, later," he promises.

Arthur pulls off, earning a pleasing little whine from Merlin. "You have me now."

Merlin curves a hand around Arthur's nape. Arthur has to look down again and take Merlin's cock in quickly, because he doesn't have a response for the look that Merlin gives him then, one that leaves him feeling strangely raw, more vulnerable than he should even on his knees like this.

Merlin tightens his other hand in Arthur's hair, pulling him forward gently until his cock is pressing at the back of Arthur's throat. "I mean it, though. You'll love it, I think. There's nothing like it, having someone _inside_ you."

Merlin's cock stretches Arthur's jaw to its limit, until he's having trouble breathing around it. He pushes farther, needing more, because it's all he can get.

"I'd open you up with my fingers first." Merlin rocks forward, then back, until Arthur is chasing after him with his mouth and swallowing him down again. "Until you think you can't take anymore--that's when I'd fuck you, I'd fill you up, and you _would,/i > take it, wouldn't you? For me?"_

Arthur nods desperately around his cock, moaning, swirling his tongue around the head to make Merlin moan, too.

"God, I'd love to see you just like that, taking it all. Maybe I'd use my fingers again, too. Not the first time--but you're so good, you'd be able to soon enough. You'd need more after a while, and I'd push them in along with my cock. I've done it before, it feels amazing." He grazes his thumb along the edge of Arthur's lips where they're stretched around Merlin's cock, then slides it in, and Arthur can see it--see Merlin riding someone's cock, their fingers, loving every moment of it, sees _himself_ writhing as Merlin fucks him and he's never been so hard in his life, his own dick pressing up against the metal, so torturous it's almost a relief.

He takes Merlin in as far as he can, till it feels he's almost halfway down Arthur's throat and Arthur will never breathe again he's so full of Merlin, swallowing around him best he can as Merlin fucks forward, once, twice, and then is coming down his throat, and Arthur takes it, takes it all.

-

"Odd," Uther says, "But yes, he quit in an awful hurry. I suppose your manservant can take the job, though?" and drops the keys into Merlin's hand. 

"It would be an honor, sire," Merlin says, bowing with a grin that only Arthur can see.

* * *

34.

He looks at Merlin stretched out on his bed, body only half covered by twisted sheets that leave vast tracts of pale skin to be dappled by the faint light coming in their willow. Fancifully, Arthur likes to believe it's moonlight, but he knows it's really only light cast by the old yellow streetlamp outside his bedroom window.

When Merlin had said, “yes, Arthur, of course I'll check in on your flat every now and then while you're away to make sure the plants haven't died and no one has burgled your telly,” he obviously meant something else entirely. The state of Arthur's flat shows that Merlin has more or less been living there. 

Nothing is, strictly speaking, dirty – Merlin is tidier than that- but things are still a mess in a way that speaks of someone living alone. There are a few plates on the table from dinner, likely left there because Merlin didn't think anyone would ever know if he left the washing up for the next morning and trundled off to bed instead. He's left his underwear on the floor, probably for the same reason, and Arthur can't help but smile more fondly when he notes they're the stupid reindeer ones he bought Merlin last Christmas.

He shifts his heavy bag off his shoulder, crouching a little as he eases it to the floor with no more than a rustle of nylon against carpet. His jacket buttons are easy to undo without a sound; thank goodness he isn't wearing something with a zip. Shirt followed by trousers followed by underwear and Arthur has stripped bare without a sound.

He eases onto the bed slowly, trying to distribute his weight so as not to make the mattress shift too much or too suddenly and still Merlin sleeps, utterly oblivious.

Merlin is turned away from him so Arthur takes a moment to appreciate the beautiful curve of his shoulder and with his eyes follow it up along his neck to the place just below his ear where Arthur then leans forward to press his lips. He half expects Merlin's eyes to snap open in surprise, but all Merlin does is shift slightly and murmur the question of Arthur's name on an exhale.

Arthur doesn't say anything, but he trails the pads of his fingers down the path of Merlin's spine, relishing the feel of soft skin he's not seen or felt for months. Merlin arches ever so slightly into the touch and the small portion of his lips that Arthur can see from this angle twitches in a smile.

“You're home early,” Merlin mumbles like he's still half asleep.

“Mmm,” Arthur hums in reply and presses lips to Merlin's shoulder as his fingers trail lower. Merlin squirms slightly, though he doesn't try to get away and just when Arthur thinks about hesitating, Merlin laughs. Arthur thinks it's possibly the best sound he's heard in weeks, so he listens for a moment, drinking in the rich sound of Merlin's voice, sleepy-heavy but happy and warm.

Then Arthur teases his fingertip against Merlin's entrance and the sound of Merlin's laugh is cut off with a lovely hitch of breath and the hint of a whine.

“Great way to wake up,” Merlin says, breathless, as Arthur slides two slow, careful fingers into him. He's tight, but one of the lovely things about Merlin is how his body always accommodates Arthur so easily, like it loves him. It's likely the result of practice – Merlin in no way lacks practice- but Arthur likes to imagine it's just for him.

“You're giving me that look,” Merlin says, twisting his body around so he can see Arthur without losing the fingers inside him.

“What look?”

“The one that says you're thinking all these romantic, poetic things instead of saying them.”

Arthur smiles, a slow curl of amusement as he leans in to kiss Merlin properly on the mouth. There are always so many things Arthur wishes he could say to Merlin, but he's afraid that when the times comes he'll stumble, that he'll fail to articulate just what Merlin means to him.

So he covers Merlin with his body, bats away Merlin's hand when he tries to wrap lovely long fingers around Arthur's cock, and teases Merlin open until Merlin is gasping and shivering and covered in his own come and still Arthur doesn't stop for a long while. 

Somewhere along the way, Merlin smiles at him like he understands, and Arthur likes to believe that he does without Arthur ever really having to tell him.

* * *

35\. 

Arthur knows the curves of the half dozen winding country roads by heart. He’s memorised the address, knows to bypass the modest house in need of repair and instead make his way to the back garden and into the greenhouse to drop off his delivery.

“Pendragon’s Parcels,” Arthur calls out, formal as ever. Merlin is at the worktable, as always, working on his precious roses. 

“Arthur!” Merlin says, making his way toward him. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

Those words shouldn’t make Arthur’s heart rate speed up after all this time, but it does. He hands over the package politely. 

Merlin’s eyes light up. “Oh, it’s finally here!” He scribbles his signature on Arthur’s clipboard and eagerly but carefully opens the package. It isn’t company policy to be so intrusive after the delivery has been made, but Merlin’s enthusiasm is infectious. Arthur takes a peek. Inside are a dozen vibrant red rose cuttings. Merlin caresses the petals lovingly. 

Arthur clears his throat. “If that’s all then.”

Merlin looks up at him. “I’m trying to crossbreed a new type of rose,” he explains. “Freya is wonderful to send me the other parent stock I needed.”

“Oh?” Arthur asks, affecting an air of nonchalance. He leans over to inspect one of Merlin’s prized golden roses on the worktable. “Your girlfriend?”

“No,” Merlin says lightly. “Well, not anymore. We found out that we worked better as friends. And as horticulturists.”

Arthur cups a golden rose casually in his hand, looking out intently for thorns. “Naturally.”

“Why don’t you take one of those?” Without waiting for an answer, Merlin magically produces a pair of shears and snips off a single golden rose in full bloom. He whisks a pin out of thin air and sticks it in his mouth like he’s some kind of tailor. Arthur can’t make himself stop staring at his mouth. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, his hands busy smoothing Arthur’s collar flat. His fingers brush Arthur’s throat—Arthur swallows—and he half-turns to pick up the rose from the counter. With nimble fingers, he deftly pins it to Arthur’s collar, a smile hovering around his mouth after he’s done. Merlin’s hands rest on Arthur’s chest for a moment too long, and Arthur’s heart beats like a drum.

Merlin walks him to the greenhouse door, one hand on Arthur’s arm. “Come by next time and I’ll show you the new breed.”

When Arthur gets home that evening, he carefully unpins the rose from his collar, pressing it between the leaves of his mother’s leather-bound hardcover book.

❦

Arthur stops by Merlin’s place on his next delivery, another cutting sent from Freya. He scowls down at the return address for no reason he can name.

Merlin smiles at him when he arrives. “Come see,” he says. Blooming on the worktable is [a yellow rose with red edges](http://www.flickr.com/photos/sxbaird/6753676639/lightbox/).

“It’s beautiful,” Arthur says honestly.

Merlin smiles. “I thought about naming the new species _Rosa pendragonii_. Pendragon’s Rose. What do you think?”

Arthur turns to stare at him, uncomprehending. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Merlin sighs. “I give up. I’ve had more luck flirting with a rock.” He hauls Arthur in by the collar of his uniform and kisses him soundly.

Arthur gasps against his mouth. Merlin’s lips are soft, his mouth firm and unyielding, and Arthur finds himself kissing back.

Merlin groans, softly nibbling Arthur’s lip. “I really want to suck you off.”

“Right,” Arthur says shakily, and he’s pressed up against the worktable and his trousers are around his ankles almost before he knows it. 

Merlin’s mouth on him is a warm wet heat that leaves Arthur gripping the table until his knuckles turn white to keep himself from keeling over. Merlin slides his tongue along Arthur’s cock slowly, as if savouring it, pressing the flat of his tongue against the slit to lick the liquid catching on the head. Arthur struggles to keep from thrusting into that hot mouth, can’t decide if he should close his eyes to enjoy the sensation or keep them open to watch every second of Merlin’s lips wrapped around his cock. 

Arthur comes so hard, he feels his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll up to the back of his head.

Merlin licks his lips clean. “Can you stay for a bit longer, or will I keep on having to ask Freya to send me cuttings I already have?”

“I can stay as long as you want me to,” Arthur says.

* * *

36\. 

Gwen is a little bit in love with a girl in her fourth year differential geometry class.

The girl is _gorgeous_ , and she wears these jeans, every fucking day, that do incredible things for her arse. Not that Gwen imagines it ever needs much help. She’s lost entire lectures fantasizing about peeling her out of those jeans.

Her name is Morgana and she’s brilliant, more or less the only person who can actually answer the professor’s questions without having a nervous breakdown. She’s a smart-arse, too, always has a comeback, so different from Gwen, who stumbles and stutters over her words when she’s nervous.

Gwen can’t decide if she’d rather fuck her or be her.

In retrospect, asking Morgana to tutor her is both a terrible and fantastic idea.

*

It’s difficult to concentrate on covariant differentiation when Morgana’s talking about it in her rich voice, her long fingers are moving rapidly as she explains a new concept. When up close Gwen can see that her eyes are green behind her dark-framed glasses, god _dammit_.

“Thanks for doing this,” she says when their hour is up, trying not to fiddle nervously with the buttons on her shirt. Morgana flashes her a smile, but she doesn’t say anything, and after an awkward moment Gwen goes to get her wallet. 

“So it’s thirty quid, yeah? And is the same time next -” 

Morgana’s hand closes around hers and Gwen looks up, startled. Morgana is much closer than she expected, a predatory smile on her face, and then she’s kissing Gwen, her mouth perfect beyond belief.

Before Gwen can catch up with this course of events, Morgana pulls back.

“You are the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” she says, still only centimeters from Gwen’s lips. “Just ask me out next time.”

“I-I didn’t mean to - I mean, I-I wasn’t,” Gwen stutters, but Morgana stops it by kissing her again, her fingers sliding into Gwen’s hair and holy god, she’s good at this. 

Gwen’s hesitant at first, still not quite believing this is happening, but eventually she leans into it properly, kissing Morgana back. She puts her arms around her waist and pulls her closer, _finally_ getting her hands on that fantastic arse.

“Arse girl?” Morgana says, laughing into Gwen’s mouth. 

“Yours is ridiculous,” she retorts, biting down on Morgana’s lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. Morgana growls and, gripping Gwen’s hips tight, walks them back until Gwen’s thighs hit the back of the bed and she goes tumbling down onto it.

Morgana’s on top of her a moment later, one of her hands is sliding up her thigh and Gwen can’t help but spread her legs, letting her skirt ride up.

“Too fast?” Morgana breathes into her skin, forehead pressed behind her ear.

“No, no, just perfect,” she says, arching her back, pressing her body flush against Morgana’s.

Morgana slides her tongue back into her mouth, fast and wet, kissing her until Gwen’s dizzy. She doesn’t notice Morgana shifting on the bed until she presses her leg _up_ , hard, hot pressure, and she moans, embarrassingly loud.

“You like that?” Morgana teases, licking the shell of her ear. She doesn’t wait for a reply, just starts rocking her hips, her thigh pushing out a perfect rhythm and Gwen pushes back, far too far gone to be the least bit embarrassed about rubbing off on Morgana’s leg.

The denim feels rough and wonderful and if she could make herself stop for a moment, she’d beg Morgana to take off her panties so she could feel it against her bare cunt, get those fucking ridiculous jeans wet and messy. 

But she’s enjoying it too much, rocking against Morgana’s leg, her hands slipping under Morgana’s shirt to slide across her skin. 

“Mmm, can you come from this?” 

Gwen nods, and Morgana starts moving faster, rolling her hips more, and it feels fucking spectacular, rubbing against her clit at the top of her motion, and she just needs a little more, just another few moments, just a little bit - 

Morgana shoves up hard and lowers her mouth to Gwen’s neck, sucking a bruise into it, hard and sloppy, and Gwen comes, clit throbbing, panties soaked.

Best maths lesson _ever_.

* * *

37\. 

Merlin groans when the phone rings. He snatches his hand guiltily out of his pants and rolls over to smother a scream into the pillow before he picks up.

“How long are you going to avoid me?”

“It’s been a _day_. How can you possibly be this calm already?”

“I’m used to your magic bringing whimsy into our lives,” Arthur says dryly.

“But you’ve never been so, erm, bodily dragged into it,” he says as he waggles fingers that moments before had been perilously, deliciously, close to Arthur’s _cock_. He’s going to hell.

“You’re just lucky this happened during reading week. Wasn’t planning on leaving my flat much anyway.”

“I really am very sorry,” he whispers.

“You are,” is the light reply. “Sorriest excuse for a wizard ever. Which luckily for us means this should wear off soon enough. In the meantime, I get to see how the other half lives. Although, I’m shocked you’re able to in these appalling conditions.”

There’s an ominous shuffling noise, and Merlin blanches. “You’re not _cleaning my flat_ , are you?”

“Someone has to.”

“Stay out of my things!”

“Well, you won’t let me come over--”

“Of course you can come over, this is your flat! I said we should swap back!”

“No, we’d both have to stay at mine; I can’t stay there by myself looking like this.”

“Your doormen all recognise me!”

“They don’t allow visitors to stay in the absence of the tenants. Something about appearing as if I’m subletting. What’s with this aversion to seeing yourself anyway? You’ll finally know the pain all of us have had to deal with for years.”

“Hilarious,” he replies, staring at the well-manicured fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Fingers he’s imagined _inside of him_ , god. How could he possibly tell Arthur how when he’d idly flipped through the TV in search of mind-numbing distraction, he’d stopped on a curvy blonde and felt a spike of arousal that no woman had ever brought out in him before. Which meant that the moment Arthur saw Merlin, Merlin’s body would react the way it always did, the way he spent years carefully making sure Arthur would never know. It occurs to him belatedly that there’s a rather lingering silence on the phone. “Arthur?”

“Hm, yes,” is the distracted-sounding reply. “You’re carrying precious cargo there. I have an intensive regimen I’ll need to go over. There’s the hair and proper food, not the junk you eat, and exercise, if you have me slack off and I pay for it during footie, I will end you...”

Merlin’s mind drifts as Arthur’s authoritative tone in Merlin’s own voice washes over him, and he looks down at strong forearms, thick thighs, and to his horror, he feels himself growing hard. He’s not sure how this works -- he feels things his own body wouldn’t normally, but then there are things he makes this body feel as if it were his own. Although Arthur’s a raging narcissist, so maybe he always turns himself on. His mind suddenly snaps back to attention. “ _What?_ ”

“Jesus, lower the decibel level, will you? You should know how sensitive your enormous ears are.”

“ _What did you say_?”

“Wanking,” Arthur repeats casually. “It’ll be days before your magic dissipates, and a daily wank is essential for me. Helps with the stress, especially with exams coming up. I’ll just tell you what I like, so you can get in there quick and get the job done. Purely mechanical. Like eating my meals--”

“Oh my god.” Maybe Merlin’s magic was warping Arthur while he was in there.

“--and you’ll tell me what you like, so I can do the same for you.”

And there went the rest of Merlin’s brain cells. The thought of Arthur touching his body made him harder even as he fought off the urge to cry. The only time Arthur would ever touch him, and Merlin wouldn’t even be there to enjoy it. And touching Arthur made him feel dirty, because Arthur had no clue the advantage Merlin would really be taking.

“I already tried when I woke up, but it’s clear you do it differently. Couldn’t rub one off properly. I mean, myself, I like a bit of hard and fast. Figures you’d probably like it slow and lazy like you are with everything else. But your arse keeps clenching up, mate, and you feel all _tense_ , had no idea what that was about, but then I just found the most interesting box next to your bed--"

* * *

38.

The nice thing about dating your roommate is that you're already living together. Unfortunately, the awful thing about dating your roommate is _you're already living together_ , and when you haven't actually done anything more than a little under-the-shirt groping, it makes retiring to bed every night feel like a minefield.

Or maybe it's just awful because Merlin is _Merlin_ , and the most socially awkward guy on campus. God knows, Elyan doesn't ever seem awkward when he glances at his watch, prods Merlin with his elbow, and says, "God, I'm bushed. In or out, Merlin." He doesn't comment on the fact that Merlin never, ever takes him up on the invitation, just slinks across the room to his own bed, his face ablaze.

#

Merlin dozes in Elyan's bed until he's woken with a nudge. "Go on. Off to bed."

He's awake instantly. He sits, trying not to be stung by the abandonment of their ritual, but failing spectacularly. Elyan touches his knee and catches his eye. "Or you can stay, and we can talk about it?" There's no rejection in his gaze, just a quiet wondering.

#

"It's not you," Merlin says, hunching miserably, then realizes what he said. "I mean, this isn't the 'it's not you, it's me' speech. I'm just…" Merlin struggles for words and hopes Elyan will say something. But Elyan just waits, until Merlin says, "Terrified?" in a humiliating squeak.

#

"What are you afraid of?" Elyan asks later. But Merlin thinks the better question is, _What_ aren't _you afraid of?_ At least the answer would be shorter.

"You name it," Merlin admits, "I've probably worried about it."

#

"Okay," Elyan says abruptly. "I've got an idea."

Merlin pushes up and looks down at him. "What idea?"

"We'll make a pact." He rubs his thumb over Merlin's hip. "Tonight, everyone's clothes stay where they are."

"It's brilliant. We'd better notify the Nobel Committee."

Elyan flicks his fingernail against his waist. "Don't be a smartass," he says. But they both know he might as well tell the sun not to shine.

#

"You want to hear the rest or not?"

Merlin's working his way through a particularly thorny chapter of calculus homework, but he's used to Elyan's rambling, so he says, "Sure, lay it on me," without paying much attention.

"Tomorrow, you get to remove one piece of clothing. Yours or mine, whatever you like.

Merlin blinks and looks up. "I'm sorry, run that by me again?"

Elyan grins. "The next day, you get to take off two."

Merlin throws the math book aside without another thought.

#

"Slight problem," Merlin says. They're in bed, Elyan on his back, both clothed but kissing and touching. It's nice, but— "We've done this before."

Elyan grins like a jack o'lantern. "Not exactly." He guides Merlin's hands down his chest, past his waist, where Merlin never dared for fear Elyan would want to take things somewhere he wasn't ready to go. But with the rule and their clothes firmly in place, it feels like much safer territory.

#

Merlin lightly traces the shape of Elyan's cock through his pajamas. "I can't," he stammers. "I don't know…" Everything he can think that Elyan might want requires breaking the rules. The thought of removing clothes fills Merlin's stomach right back up with nerves.

"Like this." Elyan pulls Merlin down, lets him settle between his thighs. He rocks up, pressing his hardening cock against Merlin's.

"Oh—" Merlin leans his head on Elyan's shoulder and bears down against his next thrust. " _God_."

"Mmhmm." Elyan cups the back of Merlin's head and guides him into a filthy kiss.

#

Merlin's lost track of where Elyan's hands are. Everything's been swallowed by a haze of need and pleasure. When Elyan presses a thigh between Merlin's and gives him something solid to move against, Merlin's lost. He comes in his pants with a broken cry, then collapses onto Elyan's chest, boneless.

#

"Oh God. I can't believe I shot off like that. I told you I'd be terrible."

Elyan laughs. He pulls Merlin's hand between them, where he can feel Elyan's softening cock and the growing damp spot on the front of his pajamas. "You were _not_ terrible."

"Oh." Merlin's face flushes hot and pleased.

#

They separate to change. When Merlin's done, he turns and hesitates, caught in the middle of the room, Elyan on one side and his own cold bed on the other.

"In or out," Elyan says, smiling uncertainly

Somehow, it's easy. Merlin climbs in with him and presses close.

* * *

39\. 

Prince Arthur is sixteen summers of age, well-built for a boy, with a naturally curious mind. It’s also the age where he cannot think about soft breasts (sometimes, lean muscled chests) and dark, red mouths without tenting his breeches. (It’s unfortunate and embarrassing.)

He wanks several times a day, thinking about the bawdy jokes he hears sometimes in the lower town and snatches of features he’s seen: the butcher’s daughter with her dark, inviting eyes; one of the stable boys – Ed, his name was – who had large, calloused hands; a noblewoman’s legs, dainty and dark with pretty ankles.

Of late he’s been wondering how it’s like to sink his cock into warm, wet flesh – flesh that isn’t his own hand covered with spit.

Well, this is _almost_ like the real thing.  
**

It’s easy enough to smile sweetly at the cook and ask her for a fruit pie. She obliges happily and winks at him, and for a moment, Arthur feels exposed, like she knows that he’s going to desecrate her cooking.

But any doubts fly from his mind as he sinks his cock into the warm hole made by pressing through the crust.

“Oh,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s almost-hot and sticky and _wet_. Nothing at all like his hand. A lift of the hips and he’s fucking into it, gasping at the texture – soft and yet firm enough not to crumble completely with his careful thrusting. The warmth pools pleasantly in his belly and he drags his nails on his nipples, whimpering at the sensation. 

_One of my better ideas_ , he thinks with a hysterical giggle. Father had given him The Talk about tumbling the servants months earlier, and really, this felt about the same anyway. Probably better though, since it was _safe_.

He’s about two thrusts from coming when he hears the unmistakable sound of footsteps.  
**

“Carry on,” Merlin says, managing to sound both embarrassed and amused at once.

Arthur grits his teeth and hisses at him to latch the door. Really, could he have come at a more inconvenient time? He can feel his face heat and he’s struggling to think of an appropriate explanation.

“I can help you, you know,” Merlin says. He can hear the footsteps coming to a stop behind him. “Make it feel even better.”

Arthur’s annoyance wars with his curiosity. Merlin’s older than him by a year and frequently drives the point home, but it is true that the ways of the country are foreign – exciting to him, a boy born in the ivory towers of Camelot.

“Like this,” Merlin says, and then spreads Arthur’s calves apart. He feels hot breath against his thighs, his arse, and then, _oh_. 

Merlin is licking his hole carefully, just around, teasing; flat, little licks. He laves his flesh slowly and Arthur feels bowled over with how much he wants it to be _inside_ him. Then his clever tongue thrusts and Arthur screams. 

It’s different from fingers. Merlin’s tongue is warm and wet and alive, like an animal, and it’s burrowing deep in and tracing him inside. How his tongue could thrust so deep, Arthur has no idea. 

Then Merlin pushes him slightly and he takes this as a cue to continue thrusting in the pie, and the double stimulation is so arousing that he comes not long after, feeling wrung out after the intensity of his climax.

He lies panting on the bed with the pie crushed underneath his body.

“Good?” Merlin asks, breathless. 

Arthur turns around and sits up, smushed pie and all.

Merlin is unlacing his breeches, occasionally stopping to palm at his erection and moaning a little. They fall with the soft sound of fabric.

“Yeah,” he replies, and stares, fascinated, at Merlin’s long fingers. He’s thumbing at the slit of his flushed cock and then pulling roughly, quickly. It looks almost painful, but he seems to like it that way, and when he comes it spurts, forming an arc before landing and staining the bed.

“Wow.” 

Merlin grins at him.

“Teach me how to do that,” Arthur says.

That summer, they find out just how many ways it’s possible to come.

* * *

40\. 

“Remember, they haven’t seen each other for over a year. It needs to be desperate and wild, but still sensuous and full of feelings.”

“No problem,” Arthur says for both of them, cocky grin in place.

“Hop on the bed then.”

~x~

_Alan rocks into Martin’s heat, kissing Martin’s lips like it’s what keeps him from dying. Covers slips from his back as Martin hooks his leg around him, pulling him in deeper. He gasps into Alan’s mouth._

~x~

“Great guys. Take five and we’ll go again, okay?”

~x~

Merlin kisses Arthur with all he has, all of his nerve endings on fire from Arthur’s intimate touches. He gasps for real when Arthur bears against him hard, bringing their barely covered groins together.

Merlin’s hardening rapidly as Arthur continues rubbing him with his own erection. His heart is beating wildly in his chest while he’s slowly dragged towards orgasm.

He follows the motions as per the script, even when Arthur’s mouth on his neck is sending hot spikes of pleasure through his whole body.

~x~

“Hot like fire, guys. Hot like fire. Keep it up and we’ll be going home in no time.”

~x~

“Are you crazy? They’ll know,” Merlin hisses, urge to buck up overwhelming.

“Know what?” Arthur asks, grinning down at Merlin. “Everyone in this room knows about us dating. The whole world knows that. And of course everyone here knows we’re both hard.”

“I hate you.”

“Whatever you say, _darling_.”

~x~

_Alan’s thrusts become erratic and he whispers “I love you” against Martin’s lips._

~x~

Arthur’s cock is pressed in between Merlin’s arse cheeks, the fabric covering it dragging over Merlin’s hole. It clenches under the stimulation.

~x~

“I bet you’re enjoying this. You love that they can see you with me. You want them to know I’m yours just as I want them to see them you’re mine,” Arthur whispers into Merlin’s ear. “You’re so hard. You’ll come for me this time, won’t you? And whole world will be able to watch it.”

Merlin shudders under Arthur, his hips twitching up without his permission.

~x~

_Alan’s words echo in Martin’s ears as he meets each one of his thrusts._

_“I love you,” Alan says again and Martin’s world turns white with pleasure._

~x~

Merlin can’t stop thinking about Arthur’s filthy whispers. His whole body is tight with anticipation as they move through the motions. Arthur’s cock is massaging his balls and then nudging at his entrance and Merlin wants nothing more than feel him inside. 

“I love you,” Arthur says, his hips stuttering and Merlin isn’t sure if the devotion in Arthur’s eyes is just acting or reality.

He starts moving, not holding back a bit this time. Arthur repeats the words and this time Merlin knows they’re not meant for Martin.

His mind blanks out as he comes.

~x~

“Pure gold!” Gwaine shouts. “I knew you’d make him lose it.”

“You bastard,” Merlin growls, hitting Arthur’s shoulder with as much force as he can muster with his body still recovering from his orgasm.

Smile slowly spreads over his face and then it turns into a smirk.

“What?” Arthur asks, his victorious grin faltering.

Merlin pulls his head down.

“Revenge,” he whispers into Arthur’s ear and flips him on his back.

“Keep rolling,” Gwaine mouths at the cameraman.

* * *

41\. 

Everything had been going so well. At least, Arthur had thought so. Months ago, his flatmate of several years -- a man he had been _sure_ was straight as an arrow and had no interest in Arthur as anything more than a friend -- had proved in no uncertain terms that he was not only bisexual, but that he was just as attracted to Arthur as Arthur was to him.

Since then, a night out at the pub or the occasional club had seen them back at the flat, usually on Merlin’s bed, fucking like tomorrow would never come, and Arthur in his own bed before the morning. 

As far as Arthur was concerned, things were good. So what if there were no good morning kisses or lingering glances or any of those familiar, fleeting touches that lovers got soppy over. That just wasn’t them.

They lived together and hung out together. They bickered and teased, and they were just as close of mates as they’d ever been. The only difference now was that most nights ended with Arthur’s dick in Merlin’s ass until both of them got off. 

So when they got home from the pub that night, already hard and wanting, trading wet, heated kisses and dropping clothes all over the flat, Arthur was a little floored when Merlin said, “I don’t want you to fuck me tonight.”

It took a few seconds for Arthur to come clear of the lust haze he’d fallen into, and when he did, he pulled back as though he’d been burned. “Wait,” he said, confused. “What?”

“I said,” Merlin replied, pulling them further into what Arthur realized was _his_ room. “I don’t want you to fuck me tonight.” He lay down on the bed and pulled Arthur down on top of him. “Tonight, we’re putting an end to this string of one-night stands we’ve been having.”

“What...?” Arthur gasped from the tiny kissed Merlin was planting all over his chest. “What do you want, Merlin?”

Merlin pulled away just far enough to look Arthur in the eye. “I want you to touch me. Just that. Just...touch.” Merlin sighed at Arthur’s blank look. “Like this,” he said, and proceeded to run his hands down Arthur’s back, rubbing and caressing as he drew Arthur into a deep kiss. 

Arthur moaned into Merlin’s mouth when he felt agile fingers fondle the crease of his ass, then skitter away to drag lightly down the back of his thigh. Merlin’s hips shifted beneath him, their cocks brushing briefly before Merlin pulled away. 

“No,” he whispered against the side of Arthur’s neck. “Just your hands. _Touch me_ , damn it!”

There was frustration in Merlin’s voice, and Arthur finally threw off his hesitation and let his hands start to wander. He dragged gentle fingers over the lines of Merlin’s face, caressing his high cheekbones and tracing the outline of his lips. Leaning down, he kissed his lover, delving deep as his hands continued down Merlin’s body. 

The moans and sighs he heard as he traced the outline of Merlin’s abs surprised him. He’d had no idea Merlin was so sensitive. Her grinned ferally when Merlin arched into his touch and breathed, “More. Arthur.”

Arthur’s lips soon followed his fingers, his tongue flicking out and tasting everywhere he could reach. Merlin writhed beneath him, his breath hitching as he cried out. Arthur lapped gently at the crease above Merlin’s thigh, holding his hips to keep him still.

Finally, Arthur reached the tip of Merlin’s twitching cock. He regarded it for a few seconds, considering. Instead of pulling it into his mouth and giving Merlin the blow job of his life, he simply rubbed it against the side of his face and breathed in. 

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned. “Please. So close. Please.”

Arthur blinked and laid a kiss to the side of Merlin’s cock. He licked a wet, hot stripe from the base to the tip and had to pull back quickly as Merlin shouted and came hard. Arthur could only watch in wonder. He’d had no idea Merlin was so sensitive, or that just Arthur’s touch could get him off like that. 

A tug on his hair had him scrambling up Merlin’s body, laying random kisses as he went. It didn’t take more than a couple of pulls of Merlin’s hand on his cock to have Arthur finding his own release; and he collapsed on his lover, content not to move for the rest of the night.

* * *

42\. 

"This isn't our room," Arthur says after he and Merlin stumble into it, arms locked around each other, not bothering to turn on the light. Looking around in the dark, he doesn't think it's theirs. While Morgana probably doesn't want them having sex in _any_ of her beds, it's probably even ruder to do it in another guest's room.

"Yeah it is," Merlin says, punctuating his words with kisses down Arthur's jaw. "Third door on the right. See?" He points to the corner. "Our luggage."

Arthur squints. He may've had a couple glasses of celebratory campaign, but he's pretty sure that's a, "Chair, Merlin. It's a chair."

"No it isn't," Merlin says. He tries to steer Arthur to the bed. When Arthur doesn't move, Merlin growls and presses close, sucking at Arthur's neck.

Arthur's protest is lost when Merlin kisses him, tongue delving into his mouth, and that's just a sneaky trick if he's ever seen one. But it doesn't stop Arthur from sucking, caressing it with his own. Merlin's hands scramble to unzip Arthur's trousers and there's no way Arthur's going to resist the way Merlin's shoving his hand in to rub Arthur's cock.

"Okay, okay." He tugs at Merlin's shirt. "Come on, to the bed with you."

"That's what I'm been trying -- this was your idea!" Merlin pulls away, hurriedly getting naked. He throws himself back onto the bed, pale skin catching the distant streetlight from the window, and reaches up with grabby hands. "Come _on_."

"Pushy," Arthur says, though he's not complaining. He gets naked quickly, and in a moment is leaning over Merlin, pressing him down into the bed. He starts kissing him, teasing little nips at his mouth, lips sliding down to the crook of his neck. Merlin moans and clutches him even closer. 

"Fuck me," Merlin says filthily into Arthur's ear. "I want you to fuck me."

"God, me too." Arthur tries to pull away, but Merlin whines and won't let go. Laughing, Arthur says, "Let me get the lube. I'll get you ready so good and quick, I promise."

Merlin hums happily, letting up his iron hold. Arthur reaches over to fish around in the nightstand, where Merlin put their lube -- it's always the first thing he unpacks. After a couple seconds, Arthur realises he can't find it.

"It's not here."

"What? Why not?" Merlin demands.

"Because this isn't _our room_."

"Oh, fuck _me_."

"Well," Arthur says, almost desperately, "now I can't. Right here, anyway." He goes to lean up. "Come on, let's go--"

"No," Merlin says, pulling Arthur back down to him. "We're getting off right _now_."

"We don't know whose room this is," Arthur hisses.

"I don't care, if you don't hump my arse right the hell now--"

" _What_?"

Merlin huffs loudly, and is instantly in action. He pushes Arthur down onto the bed, and Arthur -- to lost and turned on to protest all that much -- goes with it. Merlin flips over, pushing his back against Arthur's chest so that Arthur is spooning him.

Merlin reaches between his own legs and Arthur make a surprised noise when he grabs Arthur's cock, pulling him forward.

"Fuck, yeah," Arthur says, voice rough, when he finally gets it -- when he feels the soft skin of Merlin's thighs around his cock. 

"Yeah, like that," Merlin says when Arthur pushes up against his arse. 

Arthur pulls Merlin closer, and his hips start moving as he mouths sloppy kisses against Merlin's shoulder and neck. He reaches around and takes Merlin's cock in hand, jerks him off in tandem as he fucks his thighs and humps against him. 

"Like that, I want -- god, when your cock bumps my balls, that's _amazing_ ," Merlin groans, wriggling around and flexing his muscles and it's brilliant, it's bloody brilliant.

Merlin comes first, groaning and spurting into Arthur's hand. Merlin reaches down, slicks his hand up with come, and then spreads it between his own thighs.

"Damn it, Merlin," Arthur says, biting his shoulder. It's such an easy, slick slide now, and when he comes, Merlin's legs are a _mess_.

They stay pressed together, boneless and sated, until their breath is in an easy, matching rhythm. Arthur's soft cock is still trapped between Merlin's warm, sticky legs and he noses behind Merlin's ear.

"Wonder whose room this is," Arthur says idly.

They both go still as the doorknob jiggles, and then Merlin laughs quietly. "Guess we're about to find out."

* * *

43.

 

She's been here longer than anyone else. She knows the streets—she knows the house. She knows the girls, she knows the boys, she knows the men outside.

She owns them all.

Nim's gone now—Annis's husband is gone too—which means she's the boss. She still takes jobs, but gets to pick her own clients. Only ones that hold special interest for her, nothing less, and appointments don't come cheap.

"Whatever the rate is, I'll pay it," the boy says, sounding young and far too arrogant from over the line. "I want the best."

"The best doesn't work for money, darling," Annis says. "She works for fun."

"You can't run a business that way," the boy scoffs.

"Supply and demand," she says, easy. "I am in high demand. I can afford to limit my clients to just the ones who beg for it, naked, on bended knee. Even then, I can still pick and choose."

There is silence, and the sound of a slow, confused swallow.

The corner of her mouth raises. "Are you going to beg for it, darling?"

**

The boy is blond, nearly a man but not quite there, despite what he might think. The strength in his chin is familiar. The name he gives is Arthur, and he would remind her of Uther Pendragon, were it not for the way he bends easily beneath her hands, where Uther would have snapped. She strips him herself, raising a brow at the gold cufflinks. He flushes.

At last he is unburdened, standing before her bare. He is strong and vulnerable at once. She touches his shoulder gently, and he kneels.

Responsive. Willing.

She grips his hair and forces his face to the floor.

"I can sense your guilt," she says, cold.

He pants, fists curling as she digs her elbow into his back, commanding his whole body. He doesn't deny anything, but gives no answers—his eyes close.

"Now, would you like me to punish you, or forgive you?" she asks. He tries to look back at her, but she just tightens her fist in his hair. She knows what he'll choose, the type who's ashamed at how much he loves being on his knees, but she still want to hear him ask for it.

"I—" he says.

She kisses his shoulder, gentle.

"—Punishment," he says.

"As I thought," she says, and kisses his shoulder again, even more slowly, and then his neck.

"I said—"

"I heard you," she says, and has him on his back in a second, still cool. "You think pain is the greatest punishment I can give you? Pain is an easy cure for guilt, and I will not let you have it so easily."

His blue eyes, so fierce, remind her of a harder man.

**

The bedroom is her torture chamber, her tongue her greatest weapon. Arthur cries out and sometimes just cries, cock hard against the sheets or in her hand. Annis plays him like an instrument, finding his weakest spots and exploiting them, methodical.

"I imagine your father wouldn't approve of this," she says when she first pets at the little silver bar through his nipple, wringing whimpers from him. Then she grips it, careful, just hinting at the sort of pain she could inflict if she felt so kind. "Does he know what sort of boy you are underneath?"

"No," Arthur whimpers.

She twists his nipple, then soothes him when he clutches at her for more. He has a sweet taste, somewhere between justice and revenge.

**

"Do you want it?" Annis asks, fingers pressing in ever so gently.

He shakes his head but twists, indecisive. His back arches, arse raising.

She tells him, " _Be still_."

He is so obedient, body stilling and arse slackening to accept her inside, that she has to pull away. She just touches him for a moment, and he curls close.

"You are the most wondrous slut," she whispers, petting his hair. He puts his face in his hands.

* * *

44\. 

Merlin is finishing up some assigned reading under the guise of watching Morgana and Arthur and a couple of their friends while their parents are out for the weekend. 

They’re old enough that calling it ‘babysitting’ would be insulting to everyone, but young enough not to be trusted alone with Uther’s liquor cabinet. ‘Keeping an eye on the teenagers’ is a pretty decent way to earn some extra cash, so long as no one ends up getting killed or maimed by the time Sunday rolls around. Merlin simply tunes out the background noise of video games and chatter while he studies. Which, if he were back at the dorms with Gwaine and Elyan, is what he’d be doing anyway. 

All is postmodernism and boredom in Merlin’s world, until he catches a thread of Arthur and Leon’s conversation and falls into the listening trap (you know, that thing where you’re trying not to listen, so, naturally, that leads to listening even harder). Morgana and Gwen have made off with a bag of chips and dip to the superior territory of Morgana’s bedroom, and, in a move universal to all sixteen year old boys abandoned to their own company, they start talking about sex. 

Leon is sniggering as Arthur describes his perfect pair of breasts, and Merlin can’t help himself. It’s so sweet, and earnest, and young — so he laughs. It startles the boys out of their conversation at just the right moment for them to clearly catch Merlin’s muttered “You are such a _virgin_ , Arthur.” 

Which wasn’t his intention. Because he was speaking to himself. But they both hear it, and Arthur’s face goes bright red, and now Merlin feels like a giant asshole. 

Leon, because he’s a sweet kid and also intensely loyal to Arthur, doesn’t even acknowledge the comment. He just pelts Arthur in the head with a cheetoh and insults his lackluster chainsawing ( _Gears of War_ , Merlin thinks vaguely — Gwaine and Elyan are more _Call of Duty_ types themselves) and they turn back to their game like Merlin isn’t even there. 

Merlin watches them subtly the rest of the night, but Arthur’s shoulders never quite relax.

+++

Merlin is not expecting to be accosted in the middle of a dark hallway after the rest of the house has gone to sleep. He acknowledges, distantly, that it would be fair to call the noise he makes a squeal. Arthur claps a hand over his mouth, hustling them into the spare room Merlin’s been using.

“What the hell are you doing!” Merlin hisses, flailing Arthur off. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said, but you really don’t have to kick my ass over it.” Arthur might be young, but he’s built, and Merlin subsists on the dust from his textbooks and Red Bull. He’s realistic about his chances in a fight.

“How did you know?” Arthur demands, and it takes Merlin a moment to figure out what he means. 

“Oh,” Merlin says. “Well—” and stops abruptly because Arthur is kissing him. “Okay, what?” he says when Arthur pauses to look at him. Then Arthur kisses him again, this time going straight for tongue-in-mouth, and Merlin has to gently disengage him. With both hands. 

“Have sex with me,” Arthur says. 

“I’m not actually a girl, you know.” 

“So?” 

“Look, Arthur,” Merlin starts, and is interrupted with another kiss, and Arthur smells surprisingly good, and he feels amazing, and— “I am not having sex with you!” Merlin breaks away, pinching Arthur’s lips shut when he starts to protest. “I mean, being honest, you’re really hot. And technically old enough. But maybe think on this one for a little longer than five minutes, yeah?”

“God, come on Merlin!” Arthur whines, rubbing his dick all up Merlin’s thigh, and wow, not fair. 

“Fuck, you are packing, okay,” Merlin says, distracting himself with another kiss. Arthur makes a happy noise. Wait a minute! “Argh, fine, you manipulative little shit. I’ll get you off, how about that? We’ll talk about sex...later.” 

“Dad’s out of town again next week,” Arthur says, mouthing at Merlin’s neck while Merlin shuffles them over to the bed. 

“Christ,” Merlin says, skimming Arthur’s shorts off, and just. Fuck it. Ethics are for the morning, anyway. He gets himself a mouthful of hot, thin skin, right at the crease between Arthur’s thigh and groin. Merlin jerks his cock fast and tight, pulling away right as Arthur’s gut begins to clench. “Come on, you’re right there,” Merlin urges, pinning Arthur down when he tries to finish himself, and Merlin thinks there are some serious perks to being a virgin and a teenager because Arthur shouts, overwhelmed, when he comes on nothing more than his own aroused momentum.


	6. Group C (clean)

45\. 

When Arthur told people he worked as the CEO of a sex toy manufacturer and retailer they usually had one of three responses. The first was to delicately avoid the revelation and never mention his day job in further conversation. The second was to scrunch up their faces in curiosity and ask deeply personal regarding his job and sex life. The third response was usually to give him a saucy wink and comment that it ‘sounded fun’, in some sort of attempt to come on to him.

It usually wasn’t fun. Especially when it was 8pm on a weekday and his office phone was ringing. All Arthur wanted was to go home, but that didn’t seem like a possibility that was going to occur anytime soon.

“Arthur Pendragon,” he answered abruptly. If he had to suffer working late, everyone who bothered to annoy him would suffer in companionship.

“Is this Camelot Kink Incorporated?” a quiet voice asked; sweet welsh tones twisting something in Arthurs gut. He always did have a thing for accents. “I have some feedback about your Griffin model…” the voice hesitantly continued when Arthur failed to respond quickly enough.

Arthur remembered the Griffin; an entirely black, fairly sizable dildo that had been very popular since its release two years ago. He could just imagine what that sexy Welsh voice would have sounded like when he played with it and had it angled at the correct position for maximum pleasure.

Arthur coughed manfully, clearing his throat and expelling the dirty thoughts racing around in his mind. “Yes, right,” he answered brusquely, “this is definitely Camelot Kink but I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong division, you’re supposed to talk to our customer service reps.” CEOs were CEOs, they usually had much better things to do than deal with this type of thing. “How did you even get this number?” he questioned. 

“It was on the warranty card,” the sexy Welsh voice said drily, continuing on in a mocking tone, “You know, in the section were it says; ‘Please call here if you have any complaints or feedback’.” 

Arthur groaned when he remembered that Morgana had been in charge of the Griffins release. Two years ago she had sworn revenge for the incident with Morgause. All things considered publishing his office number for all and sundry seemed like a rather weak attempt at vengeance. She had really stepped up her game in consequent years.  
“Well sir, we’ve never had any complaints before,” Arthur said scornfully, purposely not imagining how the sexy Welsh voice may be attached to sexy Welsh man, with long lanky limbs and rich jet black hair, because attaching his personal preferences of sexual partner to a voice was freaky and strange, so Arthur was definitely not doing that. Not even a little. “Do you even know how to use a dildo properly?” he continued.

The voice choked and spluttered a little, anger resonating down the telephone line. “Of course I do! Haven’t you ever heard of the saying ‘the customer is _always_ right’?” the voice complained, sounding like an adorably irritated woodland creature chattering away at unknown predator.

Arthur smirked. “I have heard of that saying,” he agreed. “And I happen to believe it,” he paused slightly for dramatic emphasis, “ _when_ the customer isn’t an absolute _idiot_."

The voice hanged up on him. Arthur was a little disappointed.

~~~

It took two days for the next call to come through.

_“Yes, I’d like to complain about your ‘Knights’ range of nipple clamps.”_

They continued every week after that.

~~~

“You’re doing this just to annoy me aren’t you?” complained Arthur during the fifth call, his lunch going cold on the table before him, arousal shooting through him as The Voice detailed his experience with the ‘Dragon’ prostate massager.

“I was at first but now it’s just _fun_ ”

~~~

“So I have some comments about the Excalibur range”

“I’m sorry whose speaking?”

“You know exactly who it is, you prat!”

“I’m sorry but I don’t, you’re just an anonymous voice at the end of a phone. I don’t even know your name,” Arthur said bitterly, tired of the games between them.

“It’s Merlin,” the voice stated hesitantly, an odd hitch in his tone. 

Arthur rolled his eyes in disbelief. No one was actually called Merlin in reality.

A little moan caught Arthur’s attention. “Merlin, what are you doing?”

“Using my fingers; thinking of you stroking me, pulling me, kissing me.”

Arthur gasped at Merlins sexy little mewls, as they traded dirty talk and fantasies until both of them had reached completion, an easy silence stretching between them. 

Arthur was the first to breach the silence.

~~~

“Out of all the names you could have chosen, you picked Merlin as your fake name?”

“Who said it was fake?” was the cheeky reply.

* * *

46.

 

The rough material of the blindfold scratches across Arthur's eyes and the drag of Merlin's nails makes him shiver even as Merlin presses closer. Arthur can hear the faint beat from the club. This is one of the back rooms, Merlin's room with Merlin's chains and Merlin's whips.

"Going to fuck you so good," Merlin whispers.

The cold slide of leather up Arthur's back has Arthur bucking into the feel. Merlin's fingers dig into his back, his cock rubbing against Arthur's arse. Arthur tugs on the binding on his wrists, moans when they hold. He's bent over a table, wants to on it, get off his knees and let Merlin fuck into him. He wants to feel Merlin's fingers in his hair, tugging, pulling Arthur's head back.

"You look so pretty."

Merlin's words rub against Arthur's skin, the slide of the leather glove going up around Arthur's neck. When he feels Merlin's fingers against his mouth, Arthur opens, sucks, lets his tongue run over the tip of Merlin's fingers. 

Merlin moans and Arthur can't help the way his back arches, how he pushes back into Merlin's cock. 

"Yeah," Merlin whispers, his voice breathy. "Like that."

Arthur sucks harder, his tongue gliding over the smoothness of the glove. Merlin's moans get louder as though he can feel each flick of Arthur's tongue, as though Arthur is sucking something else. 

Merlin's hands are restless on Arthur's back, his hips pushing into the cleft of Arthur's arse, his legs pressed tight to the back of Arthur's. The edge of the table digs into Arthur's hip, his mouth working hard at Merlin's fingers, legs spread wide, almost begging for it.

"Say it," Merlin groans, his fingers finding Arthur's hair.

The way he tugs sends Arthur's head backwards, the blindfold tight against Arthur's eyes. He can feel Merlin's hot breath in his neck, hisses when Merlin bites down, licks and sucks the sensitive skin of Arthur's neck. 

"What do you want?"

Arthur almost says it, has the first syllables on the tip of his tongue. But, then Merlin's fingers are pulling away from Arthur's mouth, gloved nails digging their way down. Arthur's cock is heavy between his legs hitting the edge of the table whenever Merlin presses close. Arthur wants to touch, wants Merlin's fingers on him, working him. He wants to come apart so much, he's dizzy with it.

"Be my good boy," Merlin soothes. "Be good to me and let me work you. I'll make you feel so good, Arthur. Just let me."

Arthur's response is to open his legs wider and push back into Merlin's body. He can feel Merlin's gloved hand over his arse, caressing before Merlin draws his hand back. The sting of Merlin's gloved hand rips a gasp out of Arthur and he's moaning before he can stop himself.

Merlin yanks on Arthur's hair sending pain blooming from the top of Arthur's skull. The whoosh of breath makes Arthur dizzy and he wants those fingers in his hair somewhere else, wants them pushing inside him or on his dick, jerking him off.

"Please," Arthur begs.

"You don't make a sound until I say you can," Merlin says, his teeth bared against the back of Arthur's neck. "Not a sound."

Arthur's cock is swollen to the point of pain and his body feels heavy just from Merlin against his back. When Merlin's gloved fingers slip into Arthur has to breathe hard through his nose to stop from coming.

Merlin's brutal, his fingers scissoring Arthur open, in, out. Merlin bends his fingers, catches that spot inside Arthur that rips the yell from Arthur's throat. He comes over the table, the hot spurts of come coating Arthur's softening cock. 

"That's my good boy," Merlin praises.

* * *

47\. 

Merlin closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a deep breath. His fingers wrapped around his cock and he stroked lightly, the thumb swirling over the head. The bed underneath him was soft and the only sound he could hear was his own ragged breathing.

Behind his eyes he pictured a flash of blond hair and blue eyes, the curve of Arthur’s lips and the way muscles ripped beneath his skin.

Merlin moaned as he felt a weight sink down on the bed beside him and he kept his eyes closed, as he felt a warm body settle beside his.

“You’re doing so well.” Arthur’s voice was enough to set him off, to make him ache harder. He kept up the steady pace though, not rushing himself. Arthur had asked him to take it slow. He had confessed to Merlin that one of the things he had always wanted to see was Merlin getting himself off. Merlin had been all too happy to indulge him. Arthur had fulfilled his every dirty fantasy. This was the least Merlin could do for him.

Fingers brushed against the skin of his arm and Merlin caught his bottom lip in his teeth, biting down hard to try to focus. He needed to keep control of his body.

“That’s it.” Merlin felt the pre-come leaking from his cock, and he swiped his finger over it, smoothing it down over his length. He kept stroking himself, building up the pressure. Finally, he had to open his eyes, had to glance over at Arthur.

His blond hair was damp against his forehead and his eyes where intent as they watched Merlin, caught on the motion of his hand on himself. He looked mesmerized. Finally, his eyes moved up Merlin’s body and caught on his eyes. A smile split across Arthur’s lips, beautiful and soft. He leaned in to press a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin shuddered, feeling the warmth spread throughout his body. 

His fist gripped tighter and he couldn’t stop the moan that broke its way away from his lips, his throat dry. “Please.” he pleaded, his voice wrecked and desperate.

Arthur’s smile just broadening, twisting into something predatory and satisfied and he leaned forward. His body was curved over Merlin’s and his hand covered his, adding a pressure and a weight that made Merlin shake.

His eyes slipped closed again and Arthur increased their pace, pulling hard and tight. Merlin let his mouth fall open and he leaned into Arthur, letting him take control. “You’re beautiful like this,” Arthur murmured into his skin, his breath hot. “Spread out just for me.”

“Yes.” Merlin promised back, and let Arthur tear him apart as he spilled over their fists. His body shuddered and his lip ached from the pressure of his teeth as Arthur kept going, wringing every last drop from him.

Arthur gently eased him back to the bed, the warmth of him disappearing from Merlin’s side. Merlin breathed, still feeling the aftershocks as he felt Arthur come back and press a cool clothe to his skin, cleaning him up.

“Thank you.” Arthur told him softly as he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s thigh and settled in beside him.

* * *

48\. 

Pleasure Council

 

“The repairs to the south tower are well underway, Sire.”

“Excellent. The masonry there has been in disrepair far too long. We’re finally seeing progress.” Arthur didn’t seem nearly as distracted as he should have been, if you asked Merlin. He couldn’t find it in himself to really care much about stonework or anything else at the moment. In fact he was damned sure if the room caved in he wouldn’t move. “What have you to report, Sir Elyan?”

Arthur’s hand drove him to distraction quite easily, slipping languidly through the oil dripping down the crack of his arse, smeared over his balls and dripping on the floor. The King’s fingers ran teasingly over his hole, feather-light but enough to make him shudder where he lay draped over the bench Arthur had specially ordered for this purpose.

This wasn’t the first time, and that might be the reason he was only focused on pleasure and how dearly he wanted to string Arthur along by his balls for this torture, when before he had been too distracted by the knights to do anything. But that was the point wasn’t it? They liked ogling his ass as they gave their reports and he knew they took pleasure in seeing what Arthur would cook up for them all before the next meeting.

A sharp slap to his ass made him yelp and squirm against the padded leather cover to the bench and he realized his mind had wandered. And Arthur had noticed. Arthur swiped his hand roughly down Merlin’s crack, the harsh pressure near chafing though it made his body thrill. “Pay attention. I won’t tolerate your absentmindedness, Merlin.”

“Yes, Sire,” he muttered, earning himself another slap.

“What was that?”

Merlin flushed and hoped his entire body wasn’t turning cherry red. “I’m sorry, Sire. Please more, Sire.”

Arthur’s fingers reappeared, dragging down his crack again with deliberate slowness. He stopped and pressed, fucking massaged, his rim, teasing him so bad he thought he would explode. Around him there was some rustling and his cheeks rouged again as slick sounds took on their own rhythm around the room.

“Hear them?” Arthur murmured. “They take pleasure from watching you. You know they get off on remembering you like this. I wonder if they imagine you fucked out when they see you in the corridors.”

Merlin’s body seized and he whimpered as his cock throbbed with insistent pressure. He couldn’t get off like this. He’d tried, damn had he tried. And that had earned him punishment even worse.

His world tilted suddenly and he landed in an elbowed mess on Arthur’s lap. The next slap stung worst of all and landed across his balls, offered so nicely to Arthur what with Merlin’s groin being over Arthur’s knee. Merlin squirmed, trying to relieve the cutting pressure on his hips and groin.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Merlin. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

A chorus of low chuckles rang around the chamber and Merlin shuddered, head dropping as he curled around to press his forehead to Arthur’s hip. A calming hand ran down his flank as Arthur’s own laugh ran through him. That had to be a good sign, right?

* * *

49\. 

It's paint-night at Merlin's favourite bar. He passes through the crowd, settling into the dancefloor like coming home, the crush of bodies welcoming him in. It's been too long since he came here. He's been craving it.

And then, sure as shit, same as he remembers, comes the warm, hard arm around his waist, the tiny curled tip of a tail on a dragon tattoo snaking around its elbow, and Merlin leans back into the wall of muscle behind him, grinds his arse back too, already halfway to lost. 

'Minx,' growls the voice in his ear that Merlin never names despite the aching familiarity of it, because that's against the rules. 'God alone knows where you've been. I ought to leave you here.'

'Don't even think about it,' Merlin mutters, and if there hadn't been an amused huff of breath at his ear - _unnnh_ , fuck - he would have bet there was no way the man behind him could have heard it. The bass is thrumming in Merlin's lungs, and in pushing through into the centre of the crush he's been smeared with pink and orange and God-knows what other colours, and now the hand on his stomach drags its way through the paint and comes up to grab him by the chin and push.

'Want me to stay then?' The other hand comes up to rest on his breastbone, wrist brushing Merlin's nipple through his thin shirt. Merlin pretty much melts into the cradle of the body behind him, knees to knees, shoulders to shoulders, back to belly, arse to … well. His head lolls back on a very broad shoulder and his body won't stop moving, shaking to the beat in the air.

'Yes,' he says, too loud, in a break in the music before the beat drops on them from the sky. 'Fuck.'

There's a smile in the voice of the man behind him. 'Not here. Don't need to, anyway, do we?' and a hand slides over the front of Merlin's jeans. 

They sway and pop and the mass of people around them throw paint and whoop and holler and push against them like the tide and it doesn't matter, because nothing could throw their rhythm when Merlin's arse is grinding against a thick erection and he's trying not to jerk too hard into the too-hot grip of the hand outside his trousers. 'You don't need to be fucked,' the voice growls in his ear. 'You just need to be _touched_. You just need everyone sweating around you.'

The stupid thing is it's true, and Merlin is already on the edge, shaking with bass and desperation. 'Come on,' he mutters, and his facade slips. 'Need _you_ , just you, only ever you, please, _please_ -' It's against the rules, but Merlin doesn't care. He's flying now, carried on the rhythm of sex and music.

There's a tight, hot, _broken_ moan in his ear, and the man behind him shoves harder up against the crease of Merlin's arse in his stupid, tight jeans, and the hand on his cock tightens, pulls harder, faster. In the high, singing moment between one song and the next, there are teeth against Merlin's neck, just under his hairline, and he comes in his jeans, like a teenager, twitching and oversensitised and panting. 

And then suddenly Merlin's alone, unsupported, in the seething mass of uncaring, paint-smeared people on the dancefloor, jeans chafing him and breathing still ragged and out of control. 

***

He drags himself home at 3am, washes the smudged eyeliner and violently pink paint off his face, tries to dust as much glitter out of his hair as possible, and sneaks into bed.

Arthur rolls over, makes a contented noise, and spoons up against him, wraps his dragon-tattooed arm back around Merlin's waist. 

Merlin's drifting off to sleep when Arthur murmurs, deep and rough, 'Did you have a nice night?' and leans in close enough to bury his nose in Merlin's hair, his mouth slack and hot against the bitemark that pulses there, and Merlin's dick twitches. 

'Always,' he whispers. 'I love you.'

* * *

50.

He is on the lake, body nude and imperfect under the unforgiving light of the moon. Too skinny; all lanky limbs, sharp angles, and a ribcage that could use some additional filler. The quiet surface ripples in his wake as Merlin walks himself out several feet. The water lines up with his navel, deeper. He's obviously not out there for a swim.

Hidden behind an ample bush, Arthur starts. He needs to save Merlin, to pull him back from the current and keep him safe. But just as the toe of his boot sinks into the shore, he stops, his legs stiffening beneath him as he sees more than he should. The water is still rippling around Merlin, but Merlin isn't moving.

That's the first night. The night Arthur sees Merlin do magic for the first time.

**

The next day, Arthur can't get it out of his head—the sight of Merlin in the lake, the water rising up in columns, his voice a low rumbling chant that got right under Arthur’s skin in a tone that ghosted through his veins. He knows he should be angry. That the mere sight of Merlin doing _magic_ in _his kingdom_ is something worthy of the fiercest punishment. Merlin should be executed for his crimes. There's no doubt in Arthur's mind that Merlin has had such powers for some time. That the little coincidences and subtle luck he possessed weren't just happenstance at all.

Arthur is angry—of course he is angry—but it's not for the reasons that seem most appropriate: because Merlin is a sorcerer, because he has been lying under Arthur’s nose for years, because at any moment he could have brought down the whole of Camelot, killed Uther, set fire to the kingdom.

He should be angry for all these reasons, and yet he is really only angry for one: because he was aroused by what he saw.

The scene plays through his mind all night, well into the morning when he wakes up to find Merlin sweeping his chambers, prying the drapes apart to let the sunlight stream in over his bed.

"Rise and shine, sire!" Merlin calls, grinning his broad, toothy smile. It's such a good act. Arthur has fallen for it for years.

**

Merlin visits the lake once a week. Every Thursday. It's a ritual of some sort, but Arthur doesn't speak the language of Merlin's chants, so he really can't be sure. He only knows that Merlin is at his peak here, amongst the tendrils of magic seeping from his fingertips into the water. With Merlin's eyes glowing a yellow-gold that sets fire in Arthur's prick, and Merlin's thin, red lips working around the enchantments that glisten in the evening's glow.

Arthur cannot help but touch himself. His broad hand makes quick work of his shaft, hungrily devouring the sight of Merlin and his magic. He comes into his own palm, filling it with his seed as a sob wracks through him in one great spasm.

**

Arthur doesn't sleep or eat or breathe without his thoughts straying to Merlin and the lines of his body, the round of his arse cheeks, the length of his thin, smooth prick before it disappears into the water, the way the magic sizzles in the air, crackling against the shoreline. He is beside himself. Every chance he gets, Arthur sneaks into a lonely room and touches himself, eyes closed, lips parted, cock bared. He comes fast, watches it pool to the floor—insatiable.

One evening, he sees Merlin tucking the sheets in at his bed and loses control. He steps forward and yanks Merlin's wrist, hauls him back so quickly that he knows he was almost too rough. Merlin doesn't even struggle, not one ounce, as Arthur pins him to the wall and grinds their bodies together.

"Sire?"

All Arthur wants is to see the glow of his eyes. It eats at him like all dangerous taboos eat at even the best and wisest of men. Against his ear, Arthur whispers, “ _I know_ ,” and feels Merlin tense against him. “Show me.”

Arthur can almost see Merlin thinking it through, even as he sinks his teeth into his ear to taste him. God, he has waited months for this. When he pulls back, it’s just in time to see the flash of gold in Merlin’s eyes, the boyish grin at his lips, to hear the chant roll off his tongue. Arthur rocks his hips; Merlin meets his thrust.

* * *

51\. 

Gwaine groaned…loudly. 

Thwack!

Another blow landed on his reddened, naked ass pushing him further up the satin bedspread. His cock trapped against the soft fabric. 

“I told you to hold onto the bed posts. I expect to be obeyed,” Morgana gritted out as she flicked the riding crop for another fast blow.

“Yes, milady,” Gwaine shimmy’s down the bed and locks both hands around the bed posts. His bright red, ass positioned over the edge ready for Morgana’s crop. 

“Count them off like I told you,” She leans over his back and coos in his ear. Pulling back quickly she lands another blow.

Thwack!

“Five,” Gwaine stutters out hanging onto the bed post as heat flares through his ass warring with the decadent feel of the satin beneath him rubbing again his cock and chest. 

“Good boy! I might even consider rewarding you if you keep this up,” Morgana runs her finger along the hot, red mark on his ass. 

Gwaine tenses and pushes back against her finger, his body a mass of sensations craving contact.

Thwack!

Another blow lands and Gwaine muffles a scream into the bedspread and arches into the blow, his hands slipping from the bedpost. 

“Tut-tut,” Morgana leans forward and grabs his hair and pulls. Gwaine groans and ruts against the bedspread, “Both hands where I want them.”

Gwaine fumbles his hands back to the bed posts pushing his hips higher towards Morgana. 

“Better. Look how eager you are?” Morgana smirks as she touches his ass rubbing her finger back and forth over the bright red skin. 

Gwaine gives a strangled moan and pushes his ass into her fingers intensifying the burning pleasure with the pressure. 

Morgana trails the riding crop along the cleft of Gwaine’s ass to his hole. He tenses at the feel of it as she gently presses the black leather against his pucker. Not hard enough to push inside but enough to promise.

“You like that don’t you? “ Morgana smirks and pulls the crop back for another blow.

Thwack!

“Six,” Gwaine stammers.

“Well, done, I didn’t expect you to remember,” 

Gwaine ruts against the bed beneath. Cock impossibly hard, seeking any release from the sensory  
overload he can find, not daring to move his hands from where they are desperately holding onto the bed posts. 

Thwack!

Morgana lands another blow precisely on his ass cheeks. Gwaine’s whole body stiffens and he comes and comes against the satin bed spread. 

“Seven,” he mumbles weakly collapsing weakly into the puddle of cooling come on the bedspread  
too strung out to even care. His ass pulsing with heat and tingling just this side of pain. He would be paying for this in the morning but for now the afterglow was sublime.

He lifts his head looking blearily over his shoulder, “but what about you?”

Morgana smirks and says, “I’ve got plans yet, love,” as Gwaine hears the distinct rattle of chains behind him and turns his face back into the mattress with a grin.

* * *

52\. 

Merlin had heard about the game. Will had whispered it to him at the back of math class. According to Will, this is what all the cool kids do, and if he wanted to be anything other than a pathetic nerd, this was the way to do it.  
However, sitting naked in front of his webcam, Merlin started to doubt the sanity behind this. Giving himself a few quick pulls so that his cock would be slightly full, he took a deep breath and clicked record before he could convince himself not to.  
\--------  
“Shit,” Gwaine cursed, already wanking before the video started. “Isn’t that the Merlin kid?”  
Arthur didn’t say anything. He was too busy trailing his eyes over the very, very naked Merlin that was on his computer screen.  
“He’s brave to show his face,” Lancelot said. “Everyone else chooses to be anonymous about it.”  
“He’s an idiot,” Arthur scoffed. “He probably didn’t even think not to.”  
“Maybe he knows about your little crush,” Gwaine laughs, he’s shameless as his sprawls back on Arthur’s bed and strokes himself, his pants around his ankles.  
Arthur scowls. It’s all Gwaine’s fault anyway. If he hadn’t made a sex tape and make the football team to watch it for “editing tips” then this whole silly sex tape thing wouldn’t have been started. Still, as the Merlin on the screen starts to pick up his pace and a look of sheer pleasure crossed over his face, Arthur felt any anger he felt leave him.  
Unable to wait any longer, he unzipped his jeans and gently pulled out his hard on. Unlike Gwaine, who was happily jerking fast and strong, Arthur wanted to maintain some decorum.  
“Oh,” Merlin, on screen, moaned and shifted his hips in the most sensual way Arthur had ever seen. The lift of the hips and the tongue darting out to moisten his lips sent a stab of desire through Arthur in waves.  
All those times he had seen Merlin in the back classroom, chewing on his pencil. The one time he had sucked on a pen, Arthur had almost come in his pants. He couldn’t stop his hands speeding faster and faster. He slipped them below to fondle his balls in an attempt to slow his pace. It failed as he felt himself on the brink of climax.  
“Look at him,” Gwaine groaned. “Is he? Is he doing what I think he is?”  
“No way!” Lance gasped, much more shocked then turned on (payback for forcing Arthur and Gwaine to sit through all the submitted sex tapes from girls – Arthur was never going to be able to look at Gwen the same way again).  
Arthur was unable to do more than whimper pathetically as Merlin’s fingers, which had been teasing his balls slipped lower. Arthur’s eyes darted like crazy between the fingers which might be entering Merlin and Merlin’s tense face, red and screwed up with concentration.  
There was no doubt Merlin was fingering himself up the ass when his hand started to pump and his mouth went slack.  
Arthur couldn’t last; with a shout of release his spunk hit the computer screen.  
“Aw, man! Pause it! I don’t want to miss the good stuff,” Gwaine complained, scrambling to pause as Merlin’s groans became more frantic and cut off. Gwaine didn’t bother to get a clothe, he simply used his hands to wipe away Arthur’s come, un-paused the movie and used Arthur’s come to make his wanking even smoother.  
Arthur rolled his eyes; Gwaine was gross like that.  
On screen Merlin was coming too. Arthur was belatedly aware of Gwaine climaxing beside him, but his eyes seemed to be fascinated by the way Merlin’s mouth hung and his breath comes out in huffs.  
\-------------  
“Did it work?” Will asked, casually scissoring his fingers up Gwaine’s arse.  
“If those two don’t together after this, we go to my plan,” Gwaine said.  
“Lock them in a room together?” Will asked, kissing Gwaine’s inner thigh.  
“Lock them in a room together naked,” Gwaine reminded him, dragging him up higher. “Naked is very important.”  
Will forgets the plan as they kiss again.

* * *

53\. 

Merlin pulled the straw out of his cup and licked it clean before sticking it back in his coffee drink and beginning to suck. Arthur tried not to stare and to keep the slight adjusting of his trousers subtle. They were at work, for God’s sake, and Merlin was sexually molesting the poor straw where anyone could see.

Coughing softly, Arthur walked next to Merlin’s desk and put the file down.

“Could you take a look at these? My father wants them on his desk before the day is over.”

“Sure,” Merlin said. He looked like he was concentrating fully on whatever programs were open on his computer, but Arthur saw a slight smirk on Merlin’s lips. His boyfriend was one bloody big tease, that’s what he was! “Was there anything else?” Merlin asked innocently, looking up from the screen and smiling. He took several sips of his drink with short sucks and licked his lips. 

Arthur gulped.

“No,” Arthur said. “I’ll just... go. I’ve got things to do.”

Merlin grinned, took another sip of his drink and turned to look at his computer again.

During the lunch, Arthur watched Merlin eat chips and catch crumbs of chocolate cake from his plate with a finger, sucking them in his mouth and moaning appreciatively. Arthur tried to ignore the teasing, but it was proving to be hard (pun not intended but truthful). He also had a feeling some people saw what Merlin was doing and didn’t want to satisfy them with a reaction.

At 4 o’clock, Merlin knocked on his office door.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you coming home now or later?”

“I’ll stay for a while. I need to finish this first,” Arthur answered and looked up from his work.

That was a mistake.

Merlin was looking at him under his eyelashes and biting his bottom lip.

“You won’t be long though, will you?”

Arthur just shook his head and watched Merlin leave the room.

When he _finally_ finished and came home an hour and a half later, Merlin was on the sofa watching some ridiculous sitcom.

“Hush, let me watch this,” Merlin said when Arthur sat beside him and opened his mouth. “Only ten minutes left.”

It was the longest ten minutes of Arthur’s life. Merlin’s eyes were fixed on the telly, but his hand was on Arthur’s thigh petting it suggestively. Just when the credits rolled, Arthur turned towards Merlin and pulled him on his lap.

“You bloody.” One kiss. “Fucking.” Another. “Teasing.” Merlin sucked his tongue in his mouth. “Bastard.”

“I don’t like to call it teasing. I’d rather use the word advertising.”

Merlin slid off Arthur’s lap and between his knees. His hands were on Arthur’s zipper before Arthur had time to fully react.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day. It’s your own fault for making all those fucking rules of proper behaviour at work. I could’ve sucked you off during the lunch hour, but...”

Merlin tugged Arthur’s trousers and pants down and began to kiss the shaft. Arthur groaned.

“...giving me all those glances and still doing nothing about it...” Merlin continued between the kisses and licks. Arthur wanted to tell him to shut up, but fucking hell, his mouth felt good, so he only pushed his hands in Merlin’s hair and tried to make him...

“Oh gods,” Arthur gasped as Merlin took the head of his cock in his mouth and began to suck. Merlin pushed forwards and took as much as he could in his mouth and traced the underside with his tongue. All day Arthur had imagined this; Merlin on his knees between his legs, moving up and down, and taking him a little bit deeper every time.

He felt his cock hit the back of Merlin’s throat. 

“Oh my God, Merlin. I’m close,” Arthur said embarrassingly soon and tried to pull Merlin back, but Merlin only sucked a bit harder. Arthur didn’t even notice Merlin letting his cock go only when he was already coming, so that some of the semen hit Merlin’s face instead of his mouth.

When Arthur opened his eyes again, he found Merlin straddling his lap and grinding his groin against Arthur’s stomach. Arthur helped as much as he could, although he felt weak and hypnotised by his seed on Merlin’s face and Merlin’s lips on his neck.

“Oh wow,” Merlin said after he came all over Arthur’s shirt and business jacket. “So are you still completely opposed to repeating that against your desk some day?”

* * *

54\. 

There isn't enough room in the nook. Merlin's elbow scrapes across the close stone wall as he yanks at Arthur's trousers. He hisses, but doesn't let the hurt stop him – tilts his head and exposes his throat to Arthur's lips, to the slow catch and glide of them as he breathes against Merlin's skin –

“We'll have to be quick –”

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees, and knows how much time they have before the meeting – knows that he shouldn't turn, shouldn't shift and press his arse to Arthur's crotch, roll into him until the heavy weight of his cock is close, so near to where Merlin wants it –

“Merlin,” Arthur groans, gravelly and half irritated. “We don't have time.”

Merlin shifts and rolls again, reaches back to take Arthur's cock in hand and position him – right – there – 

“ _Merlin._ ”

Merlin lets out a low, humourless laugh, gives Arthur a few tight strokes. “We'll be a second,” he says, jaw slack. “Only a few seconds – just –”

“No.” But Arthur isn't moving away, moves instead into the hot clutch of Merlin's hand. “We _can't_. We don't even have any – fucking – oil, you –”

“I'll take care of it,” Merlin says. “I know this thing –” He grasps Arthur tighter, puts one hand on the wall in front of him to brace for the slick push he expects, lets his magic go and –

And.

Oh.

That...was not supposed to happen.

*

Merlin doesn't know if he's ever seen Arthur so angry.

Even a week later he's just as angry as in those first few minutes, after the shock.

“What are we supposed to do?” he demands – shouts – for what must be the thousandth time, the both of them shut up in his chambers, claiming deathly illness.

Merlin pushes his head into his hands, tries to block out Arthur's endless pacing, to breathe through the short bouts of panic. “I don't know,” he groans, hopeless. “It shouldn't have _done_ this. It was only supposed to slick us up – not –”

“Yeah, well it slicked us up, didn't it?” Arthur spits, reddening with fury and the humiliation that creeps upon him whenever he mentions what's taken his cock's place. “Real thorough spell, that one.”

“Arthur, please –”

But Arthur cuts him off with a look.

*

Merlin stays in the antechamber again that night, surrounded by his books, trying to find anything – _anything_ that might tell him what to do.

He feels sick inside, not only because this is his fault but also because the emptiness between his legs is wrong, uncomfortable. And the tender little throbs he feels there when he looks at Arthur – even in their predicament – are disconcerting.

He can't even find the spell, just the one he thought he'd used – the one he'd been excited about upon discovering it. The one that should've been perfect and slicked them and even fucking _cleaned up_ after itself when they were finished –

Merlin sits up quickly, knocks two books to the floor and nearly a candle in his haste.

Maybe if they...

He grabs the book with the slicking spell and flips to the dog-eared page, reads the passage again and – 

Maybe.

*

Arthur's in bed when Merlin pokes his head around the corner, blankets pulled up to his chin, but he's not sleeping.

Merlin shuffles into the room, quiet, and puts a hand on Arthur's mattress before taking a deep breath and climbing up, clamoring over his body.

Arthur turns under him quick as lightning, tries to sit up, but Merlin pins him down and straddles his hips.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks, deadly.

Merlin hushes him with a soft sound, closes his eyes and leans in to nose against Arthur's cheek. “I think I know how to break it,” he whispers, trying to calm.

He rocks down against Arthur – swallows when Arthur gasps – but when he tries to reach low and feel between them, Arthur takes hold of his wrist, teeth bared.

“What are you doing?” he says again.

“Just trust me,” Merlin pleads. “We have to do _something_.”

*

When they start, it's awkward – embarrassing – and Arthur's too tense.

But Merlin tells him to fuck him, flips them over until Arthur's pressed between his legs, eyes wide.

“What - ?”

“Fuck me,” Merlin says again, pulling Arthur forward with calves pressed to his thighs, rolling up into him.

And it gets slick after that, so much wet there's hardly any friction.

They slot into place, press cunts together and rock, until Merlin can feel the magic working, coming as he does.

* * *

55\. 

Gwaine’s been sitting on Merlin’s roof for twenty minutes when the window opens and Merlin climbs out, huddled into the hoodie he must’ve thrown over his pyjamas. 

“Hi,” he says, like he finds people outside his bedroom window in the middle of the night all the time.

“Hi,” Gwaine replies, shuffling over to give Merlin room to sit next to him. “Sorry, I- couldn’t sleep.”

“So you thought you’d sit on my roof all night?” Merlin asks around a yawn. He smiles at Gwaine, lopsided and bemused and so, so sweet. 

“Yeah,” Gwaine says quietly. He hasn’t got the energy for a witty retort, for a joke and a laugh and a tease. He’s just so- tired. “Do you mind?”

“Of course I mind,” Merlin says, and Gwaine’s stomach drops, “it’s freezing out here, you’ll catch your death.”

Gwaine exhales, slowly, and follows Merlin into his room. He stumbles jumping down from the window and swears softly, mindful of Hunith asleep in the next room. 

“Here,” Merlin says, “you can have my bed and-”

“No,” Gwaine says sharply. “Fuck, Merlin, I already- I’m not fucking taking your bed. It’s not like I’d get any use out of it anyway.” He forces himself to smile. “The floor’s fine.”

Merlin looks like he’s going to argue, but then he just sighs and makes Gwaine up a bed on the floor, turns around to let him shed his t-shirt and jeans. The blanket is soft and warm and smells a bit like Merlin, and Gwaine lets himself breathe it in for just a second, just one. 

“Good night,” Merlin whispers, “hope you get _some_ sleep,” and Gwaine echoes the sentiment as he lies back, counting Merlin’s breaths until he’s sure he’s asleep. 

Gwaine must drift off at one point because he jolts back to awareness at the sound of stifled moaning. At first he thinks maybe Merlin’s having a nightmare, but then- oh. 

_Oh_. 

It’s not that kind of moan. It’s not that kind of dream. Gwaine wonders, momentarily, what it is Merlin’s dreaming about to make him make noises like that and has to fist his hands in the blanket. 

No. _No_. He’s not going there. Merlin is one of his closest friends and Gwaine can’t- fantasising about Merlin when he’s jerking off, about Merlin’s perfect hands and perfect mouth, is bad enough. He can’t think about Merlin naked and wanting when Merlin is in _the same fucking room_ as him. That way lies madness, and also failed friendships. 

He rolls over and jams his head under Merlin’s pillow, willing the blood to rush back to his brain where he needs it, and closes his eyes. 

*

He’s awoken a few hours later by the sun streaming in through the window – they forgot to close the curtain after they climbed through, dammit – and he is hard. Like, achingly hard, like, you-were-having-a-really-fantastic-dream-before-you-were-rudely-awoken-by-the-morning hard. Gwaine groans, wondering if he was dreaming about Merlin and if that would be ironic or just pathetic. 

A quick glance at the bed shows Merlin’s still asleep, the jammy bastard, and Gwaine’s hand is in his boxers before he can think about it. He bites his lip, hard, and thinks about getting Merlin to make those noises again, about panting into Merlin’s neck as he jerks him off, about sinking to his knees and taking Merlin’s cock into his mouth, about fingering Merlin open until he’s begging for it, and comes.

* * *

56\. 

Merlin shouldered Gwaine through the door and they stumbled into Gwaine's quarters. He kicked the door shut behind him and pushed him across the room. Merlin heard Gwaine groan as he stumbled over brick on the floor. 

"You shouldn't drink so much, Gwaine," Merlin said and pushed Gwaine onto the bed. He let out a startled yelp as he was pulled down with him. They landed with an "omph" as air was forced out of their lungs. Merlin's chin hit Gwaine's shoulder.

"Watch it!" Merlin said as he tried to move off of Gwaine and was nearly elbowed in the face. Merlin was trapped when Gwaine's arm wrapped around him.

"Stay with me," Gwaine whispered and squeezed Merlin closer, "you know you want to."

"Gwaine, you're stinking drunk. Let go," Merlin said as he tried to wrestle out of Gwaine's grasp. Gwaine refused to give an inch and Merlin gasped as their half-hard cocks suddenly aligned. He angled his hips away but Gwaine just brought both of his hands down to grip his arse and pull him back.

"I'm not drunk. That was just a clever ploy to get you here. I've actually had water the past few hours," Gwaine said as he squeezed Merlin's arse, "see? I'm not slurring my words and I think it's quite obvious I want you to stay." Gwaine rocked his hips up to make his point.

"Fuck," Merlin cursed as Gwaine insistently rubbed himself up against Merlin and gripped his arse. Gwaine laughed.

"Patience, Merlin," Gwaine said and kissed Merlin. Merlin opened his mouth to protest but his words were muffled when Gwaine's tongue invaded his mouth and Merlin lost himself in the pleasurable sensation of finally kissing Gwaine.

Gwaine's grip relaxed when he realized Merlin wasn't going anywhere and he pulled Merlin's shirt out of his trousers and rubbed his hands over Merlin's warm skin. Merlin's moan broke the kiss and he pulled away from Gwaine to pull his shirt off completely.

"No time wasted, eh?" Gwaine questioned, but he followed suit and stripped off his own shirt when Merlin glared.

"Pants too," Merlin commanded and began working on his own. He looked up and was surprised to find Gwaine already naked.

"Now who's eager?" Merlin questioned and pushed his pants completely off.

"Both of us, obviously," Gwaine said and shot Merlin his ridiculous grin.

"Shut up," Merlin said and pushed Gwaine back down to sit against the wall, legs spread against the bed.

"Make me," Gwaine teased. Merlin rolled his eyes at him and climbed into Gwaine's lap. Merlin couldn't say who leaned in first, but they were kissing again. Their tongues fought for dominance and Merlin felt the heat pool in his stomach. He pushed his hips down and moaned when Gwaine's hard cock slid against his own.

"May I?" Merlin asked, making vague gestures with his hand towards Gwaine's groin.

"Anything," Gwaine responded and his hips bucked forward as Merlin wrapped his hand around Gwaine's straining cock. He slid the foreskin down Gwaine's shaft and was pleased when the movement resulted in a sucked in breath. 

Merlin smiled to himself and stroked Gwaine a few more times before he stopped. He grabbed the base of Gwaine's cock and slid Gwaine's foreskin up over his cockhead and used his finger to move the loose skin over Gwaine's sensitive skin. Then, he pushed a finger into Gwaine's foreskin and circled it around the head of his cock.

"Fuck, Merlin," Gwaine gasped out. His cock was leaking and the precome was making it easier for Merlin to glide is finger around Gwaine's cockhead.

"Not quite yet, but I promise you'll like this. Hold your cock still," Merlin said. 

He kissed Gwaine's lips softly before he gripped both of their cocks in one of his hands. Merlin stretched down his foreskin and gripped it out of the way at the base of his cock. Then, he aligned their cocks so that the heads met and pulled Gwaine's foreskin up and over Merlin's own cockhead. The both moaned.

Gwaine gasped and let out various curses as Merlin stroked Gwaine's cock and slid his foreskin over Merlin's thicker head. Merlin laughed and kissed Gwaine when Gwaine suddenly came and painted Merlin's cock and stomach. He stroked Gwaine carefully through the orgasm and quickly found his own a few moments later, his hands stroked his cock quickly.

"Where did you learn that, Merlin?" Gwaine asked when he caught his breath.

"I'm the sullied country boy to your drifter. The stretch of your skin feels amazing, doesn't it?" Merlin asked. Gwaine kissed him instead of answering.

* * *

57.

Arthur had honestly never expected this to happen when he’d bet Merlin that the servant couldn’t drink four tankards of The Rising Sun’s strongest mead and then walk in a perfectly straight line all the way back to the castle.

In retrospect, he really should have stipulated that Merlin wasn’t allowed to use magic.

That particular thought slipped away from him as Merlin slid a freezing finger up Arthur’s chest. Using magic again, Arthur noted, before gasping as the finger reached up and circled a nipple. “Cheating,” he breathed, all hopes of maintaining a stoic front having long been stripped away.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t really think you mind.” Merlin smiled and leaned down to give Arthur the gentlest of kisses, so light he could barely feel it and leaving him wanting more as Merlin drew away and returned to his project of driving Arthur slowly insane with just his fingers.

Said fingers were now wandering their way down Arthur’s stomach, dragging over his skin with a light touch that left Arthur on the verge of giggles, just firm enough that they left him panting, open-mouthed, instead.

Merlin looked down at Arthur and smirked a little, then whispered an incantation and Arthur squirmed as Merlin closed his fingers around Arthur’s cock. They tingled, like some of Gaius’ mint concoctions, and the feeling was so unusual Arthur couldn’t decide if he liked it until Merlin began to move his hand up and down the shaft, and then he decided he quite liked it a lot.

Even without the spell Merlin’s fingers were magic, and with it and a very clever little twist at the end of each stroke, Arthur was bucking up into Merlin’s hand in no time. He could feel his climax building with a rush low down in his stomach, just one more stroke, one more…

Merlin pulled his hand away with a smirk. “Ah-ah, not so fast.”

Arthur growled. “Merlin!”

“Oh, hush, I’ll get there soon enough.” Merlin scooted down the bed until it looked for one hopeful moment like Merlin was just going to lean down and take Arthur’s cock in his mouth. Arthur gave a little thrust to encourage this, but Merlin just laughed at him and moved further down. “There’s just one more thing I’d like to try first…”

Arthur couldn’t really see Merlin anymore because of the angle, but he felt Merlin’s lips rest on the inside of his thigh, with a similar tingling effect as his fingers had. Arthur shuddered, and Merlin smiled against his skin before slowly working his way up Arthur’s thigh and then down, back, and Arthur’s eyes grew wide as it became obvious where Merlin’s lips were headed.

Merlin raised his head enough to give Arthur a mischievous smirk, and then his tongue was on Arthur’s hole, and it tingled like his fingers had, and it made Arthur shake.

Merlin pointed his tongue and drew circles around Arthur’s hole, pressing but never entering, working Arthur up until, finally, he reached up with one still tingling hand and wrapped it around Arthur’s cock while pressing his tongue ever so slightly in…

Arthur came with a shout, taken completely by surprise by the force of his orgasm. He shook through it, Merlin keeping his hand working Arthur’s cock until he absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore before moving away.

After a few moments, Arthur finally panted out, "That was still cheating, and I am going to get you back.”

Merlin hummed happily and tried not to let on just how much he was looking forward to it.

* * *

58.

It wasn’t his fault Arthur had gone diving off a particularly steep cliff in the middle of a battle; Merlin had only meant to snatch him up at the last moment.

So he might have panicked a little.

It could have happened to the best of them.

*

‘Merlin,’ Arthur snapped, and Merlin winced, headache throbbing.

‘Oh, God. Go back to sleep. _Please_.’ Then Merlin’s body jerked, and he found himself getting inappropriately intimate with the floor.

It was going to be another long day.

*

The problem with wordless spells was that they were all vague intent, with no precise formula. It made it particularly difficult to cook up an antidote, so to speak.

Merlin needed that antidote. Three days ago, preferably. 

‘Oh, hello, floor, fancy seeing you here. Would you mind getting me a drink? I think I’ll be here for a while.’ 

As it turned out, it was really difficult controlling a body when there were two minds in it. Especially when one of those minds belonged to Arthur Pendragon.

‘Stop whining, Merlin,’ Arthur said inside his head, just as one of the books on the shelf he’d just ran into decided his head looked cosy. 

‘And hello, headache. Yeah, let’s make this a proper feast.’

He sighed.

*

The problem was that Arthur couldn’t let go. He kept trying to correct Merlin’s stance, reaching out for things; speaking when Merlin wasn’t prepared for it.

He refused to surrender control, even for a few moments, and Merlin could feel Arthur’s anger over his helplessness build over the days, bleeding into his own mind. 

Merlin supposed he could understand Arthur’s reluctance, but he preferred not to think of all the memories he’d absorbed in the moment their minds had collided. 

‘I have an idea,’ he thought at Arthur one evening, exhausted, bruised and just beyond caring; he let his hand fall between his legs. He’d missed this, too.

His hand twitched away almost immediately, and Arthur’s non-existent patience seemed to fray further. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Have you lost your mind?’

‘… No, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s lost his’ – Arthur huffed, unamused, the breath puffing out of Merlin’s mouth – ‘but I think we could both do with a bit of relaxing, hm? Consider it a challenge. Let me control my body, and I’ll make sure we both feel good. Just - trust me.’ 

‘This is ridiculous,’ Arthur said after a few moments, but let Merlin move his hand again to palm himself through his breeches. It took a while, what with the tiredness and Arthur being _right there_. And also with Merlin hoping Arthur hadn’t seen the part the part of his memories where he kept the fantasies he used while doing this; they featured Arthur rather a lot.

Well, if he did, Merlin supposed it would just be one more betrayal on his part. He really hadn’t needed to know exactly how Arthur felt after he found out about Merlin’s magic: the acrid taste of his anger, mixed with too much bittersweet hurt. It was no secret to Merlin that Arthur had never entirely forgiven him: not for the magic, apparently, but for the lies. 

_For pretending to be my friend_ , he’d heard, somewhere in the tangle of thoughts, and it made Merlin shake, feel faintly nauseous. He stroked his thigh to banish the memory, felt the fine hairs catch against his palm; lazily teased his balls.

He felt an echo of pleasure from Arthur, and then his hand was gripping more tightly against his will. ‘Arthur,’ he growled, and gained control again, but moments after that his fingers were slipping too eagerly over his belly. 

Arthur’s mind brushed against his; it took Merlin a moment to decipher the silent request for permission. He blinked as his hands slid up, exploring, making his stomach tremble. Arthur pinched a nipple, making them both gasp; then, he did it again.

One moment, Arthur was digging fingers into bruises, and the next, he was gently cradling Merlin’s cock; it was making Merlin’s mind spin. 

When his hand finally started moving, they started fighting for control again, the rhythm dissolving into stutters and jerks, but somehow, it was making Merlin’s toes curl with pleasure.

He laughed, and then Arthur was laughing, too, saying, ‘I do trust you, you know,’ and Arthur felt oddly warm pressing against his mind, calm for a moment, and then the calm shattered and they were both coming, and somehow Merlin ended up on the floor again. 

For once, he didn’t mind.

* * *

59.

**Not Quite The 1950s**

It was the last Monday of the month and Arthur had taken a half-day to be able to ensure that the evening would go flawlessly. For the past 8 months, each one had. The risotto in front of him bubbled with far too much liquid for Arthur’s taste. He cocked his hip to the side, the strings moving again, as the front of the red apron rubbed over his straining cock. He groaned and thought of pressing forward just for a second, for a hint of relief, the pressure of the cool glass of the oven in front of him, but mentally chastised himself. 

Percival would know. He’d be able to tell. And what kind of a housewife would Arthur be if he didn’t wait for his loving husband to get his relief before getting his own pleasure. 

No, Arthur would wait, and when Percival finally decided he’d been good enough and he’d let Arthur come, it would be worth it. Definitely. 

Arthur was so deep in thought he didn't hear the front door open, but he startled as Percival's voice echoed through the house. "Honey, I'm home!" 

Arthur turned down the risotto and ran to the hallway, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. He threw his arms around Percy's neck and leaned up to kiss him, hearing the briefcase drop next to him as Percival's hands smoothed down his back and rested on his arse, kneading. 

“Missed you,” Arthur said when they pulled away, and he nuzzled into Percival’s neck.  
Percival only murmured in his ear, pulling him closer, pushing Arthur’s erection against his thigh. Arthur whimpered, the cockring on for the best part of the day, making him oversensitive. At the same time, against his hip, even through Percy’s pristine suit and his apron, he could feel the outline of his cock. 

Arthur kissed at Percival’s neck, nibbling down to the collar of his shirt, relishing in the way his red lipstick stained the white. 

“Let me take care of you, babe,” Arthur whispered into Percvial’s skin, feeling the full-body shiver pass through Percival’s body right into his own. 

“Yeah.” Hands kneading Arthur’s flesh.

“Be your perfect wife?”

“Yes.”Nails digging into Arthur’s skin.

Arthur slid down the wall of Percival’s body, landing painfully on his knees. The sting distracted him from the pain in his cock, it was good. He wasted no time opening Percival’s trousers and immediately mouthing at his cock through the cotton of his briefs, breath making the fabric damp, the musky flavour and scent going straight to Arthur’s head.

Percival ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair idly, letting Arthur take his time, and Arthur did. He continued mouthing and teasing and rubbing his entire face against the bulge, smearing his lipstick all over. 

“Arthur,” Percival almost growled.

Arthur finally slipped Percival’s cock out and nosed at it, breathed it in, then licked it from base to tip (fingers in his hair tightened), before finally swallowing it down. _Yes._

With Percival’s hands trembling on his head, holding back, Arthur felt powerful as he bobbed his head back and forth, sliding off and licking all around the head before sliding back, hands fondling his balls.

After a particularly filthy lick against the slit, and a loud moan from Percival, Arthur looked up, teary eyes wide open (going for innocent) and nodded at Percival, letting his hands fall to his sides. 

Running his thumb along Arthur’s cheekbone, Percival looked at him like he was the whole world and Arthur had to close his eyes, breathe, so he wouldn’t come (even with the cockring).

Holding his head in place, Percival fucked into Arthur’s mouth, slowly at first, every inch of his cock dragging along Arthur’s tongue, lips, hitting the back of his throat. Soon, his control faltered and his thrusts got wilder, matching the pants and moans coming from above Arthur, as Arthur struggled to breathe, choking. 

“Pull it off,” Percival moaned out, when his thrusts began to stutter and Arthur knew he meant the cockring, so he did, whimpering at the pleasure-pain and the too-close feelings overwhelming him. 

Fucking into Arthur’s mouth a couple more times, gagging him with his cock as he came down his throat, Percival shoved his leg unceremoniously in between Arthur’s legs. It pressed against Arthur’s cock until he humped it and cried out, spit and come dribbling down his chin, his own come staining Percival’s trousers and the apron. 

As Percival’s fingers massaged his scalp, Arthur thought everything was perfect.

Except the risotto.

* * *

60.

**A Certain Reputation**

 

“Well, it’s just…you have a certain… _reputation_ on campus and I was hoping you might...I mean, several sources say…that you’re very talented…with your mouth.” Merlin could hardly believe that _Arthur Pendragon_ was standing before him stammering and blushing.

“I’ve been accused of having a big gob before but nobody’s ever described it as a _talent_.”

“No! I mean…Iheardyougivereallygoodhead.”

The blurred words took a minute to make sense then Merlin’s jaw dropped and a flush crawled up _his_ neck. He wasn’t embarrassed though, he was angry!

“So you figured you’d just hunt me down and demand a blow-job?”

“No! No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what?”

Looking Merlin square in the eye, Pendragon took a deep breath. 

“I want you to give me lessons.”

Merlin choked.

“Lessons? In giving head? From _me_? I never even knew you were gay!”

“I’m not, I’m bi and well…I just haven’t quite gotten the hang of it, alright?” He sounded so vulnerably defensive that Merlin softened. 

“Alright.”

“Alright? You’ll teach me?” 

He sounded so eager, Merlin laughed. Like he'd turn down a chance to get _those_ pouty, pink lips wrapped around his cock! Merlin would satisfy his curiosity about who’d talked up his oral skills later. Right now he had lessons to give. 

Nodding, he flung an arm around Arthur’s shoulders

“Yeah, we can start now, my flatmate won’t be back till midnight.”

***

Thirty minutes later Merlin was panting instructions that hardly seemed needed.

“Good now…ugh…twist your hand one way and your mouth the oth _er_! Yes, that!”

Arthur’s mouth was hot-wet-slick and felt amazing around Merlin’s cock. Perhaps he’d missed some advanced techniques but he definitely had the basics down pat.

“More spit, yeah, alternate…twist…slide, oh! You…ugh… got it!”

Tongue sliding everywhere, twining around the straining flesh of Merlin’s cock, teasing the slit and rubbing flat and hard against the notch below the head, Arthur let hot saliva drip down over his fist, lubricating Merlin’s shaft and sliding deliciously over his smoothly shaven balls. Nudging a questioning finger against Merlin’s anus had him gasping his affirmative.

A moistened digit slowly worked into Merlin’s arse and slid around until it brushed against Merlin’s sweet-spot. He couldn’t help jerking his hips and driving his cock deeper down Arthur’s throat. The blond gagged and Merlin pulled back.

He panted, “We’ll leave deep-throating for another day, eh?” 

Eyes watering, Arthur continued to stroke Merlin’s prostate while he twisted lips and fist around Merlin’s swelling prick. Hips lips were straining around Merlin’s thickness, saliva running down his chin, over his hand and dripping off his elbow as he flawlessly followed directions. Merlin’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life but he knew this lesson was about to swiftly end.

“Arthur, I’m…you’d better pull…”

But instead of stopping Arthur drove his mouth further down Merlin’s length and just sucked harder. Screaming, hands fisting in golden hair, Merlin exploded. His dick pulsing repeatedly, he poured his release straight into the back of Arthur’s mouth. Merlin moaned again, feeling him swallow. He expected Arthur to pull back but he continued to suck gently at Merlin’s softening flesh. Eventually, Merlin had to _push_ him away when it became apparent Arthur wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

“Please! Too sensitive! Arthur! Stop!” He was giggling but pleasure was bordering on agony when Arthur finally released his cock with slow sucking slide that ended in an obscene “pop!”

Merlin flopped back on the bed and Arthur crawled up to lay his face on Merlin’s heaving abdomen. 

“ _You_ , my friend, are a fast learner.”

Grinning, Arthur replied, “Mmmm…and rumor was right.”

“How would you know? Didn’t suck _your_ cock.”

Arthur raised his head and grinned at Merlin.

“Yeah…that was only part of the rumor. Honestly, I was more interested in the rest of it.”

Black eyebrows rose. “Do tell?”

“I heard you had a big, fat cock and the sweetest jizz that ever shot across a tongue. All resources agreed on this point.”

“So…you weren’t out for lessons then.”

Arthur blushed but his grin grew sly.

“I figured I _might_ pick up a thing or two…”

“But?”

“Really, I just wanted to get my mouth round that cock of yours and maybe also get to fill my hands with that sweet little arse. Forgive me?”

Eyeing Arthur’s own impressive erection, still straining against his belly, Merlin smiled, spread his legs and canted his hips in obvious invitation.

“I’ll forgive you…but only if you let me give you some lessons on how to fuck a horny, little hole, like this one.”

“Deal!”

* * *

61.

“Yeah?” Gwaine asks, voice hoarse. “Yeah, Arthur?”

Arthur nods, sweat breaking out on his brow. He hikes his legs up, feet touching his arse. He looks up at the ceiling, avoiding Gwaine’s eyes, not aroused enough to be comfortable being this – open. 

Gwaine strokes his thigh. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs, and Arthur chokes on his gasp. 

“Get on with it.” Arthur grinds out, impatient and shaky under Gwaine’s gaze. 

The click of the lid of the lube is loud even over their heavy breathing. 

Gwaine’s fingers are a slick tease against his arsehole. Arthur grunts and Gwaine’s other hand holds him steady. The first finger is uncomfortable for a few seconds.

“Breathe,” Gwaine says, and Arthur lets out a long breath, relaxing into the bed. The second finger is easier. 

Gwaine crooks his fingers, rubbing Arthur’s prostate, making him writhe a little. Arthur loses track of when the next finger is inserted, too busy focusing on the hot sparks of arousal shooting up his spine. 

Arthur grunts at the bright, sharp pain when another finger is added. Gwaine mutters something soothing, stroking his thigh. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” Gwaine says, shifting carefully to place a kiss on Arthur’s overheated skin. “You look so good, all stretched around me.” Arthur whimpers. He feels so full already, his muscles clenching around Gwaine’s fingers.

“You ready for more?” 

Arthur nods, licking his lips. He arches and groans as Gwaine’s fingers _drags_ against his skin when he pulls out achingly slowly. Arthur’s cock twitches desperately, and it’s all Arthur can do not to wrap his hand it. He doesn’t want to come yet. 

Gwaine adds more lube – his whole hand is now shiny and slick – and Arthur swallows what would be an embarrassing whimper.

Gwaine looks up at him and smiles, leaning up. Arthur meets him for a kiss. Gwaine kisses sloppy and urgent, groaning desperately into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur feels Gwaine’s cock slide against his leg, sticky-slick. 

“You still want to do this?”

“Yes, yes, come on,” Arthur says. Gwaine nods and moves back. He pushes three fingers in, and Arthur’s head falls back onto the pillow. He presses another one in. 

“Fuck, fuck. Gonna put my thumb in now. Arthur-” Gwaine groans and pulls out again. The next press in hurts, Arthur can feel tears prick the corners of his eyes. He bites his lip, muffling a grunt. 

“It’s ok, babe,” Gwaine breathes and Arthur would hit him under any other circumstances, but right now it’s all he can do to keep himself from trembling. 

He does moan as Gwaine pushes in deeper. The pressure is almost unbearable, until it isn’t any more.

“That’s it, you’ve got my whole hand. Fuck, fuck.”

Arthur can barely hear Gwaine over the rushing in his ears. He’s – he’s not sure what he’s feeling right now, but his cock is hard and desperate. 

Gwaine shifts his fingers and press against Arthur’s prostate and Arthur arches, mouth falling open in a silent scream. It’s too much and not enough and he tugs on his cock. 

His vision whites out as he comes. When he comes back, he’s panting at the ceiling. Gwaine is groaning, shoving his dick against Arthur’s hip. Arthur shudders as Gwaine comes, hot fluid dripping on his hip.

* * *

62.

Joining the circus was the best thing that ever happened to Gwaine's sex life. 

It's true, he never did get a chance to shag the implausibly beautiful magician who'd first inspired him to join. And clowning isn't exactly the best way to convince strangers of his manly prowess. With these wages he can't afford to drink or party like he used to, and he can't keep up any kind of normal relationship when they never stay in the same town for more than a week. 

Fuck normal relationships, that's what Gwaine has to say about that. Fuck normal, period. He wouldn't trade these parties for a hundred of the one-night-stands he had before.

They say back when Arthur's father was in charge he put all kinds of restrictions on employee behavior. But Arthur's a performer himself, and he understands the need to blow off steam after spending all day with the crowds and the lions. As long as it's legal and the customers don't find out, he says, you're free to get your freak on. God knows what he and the magician and the business manager get up to in that trailer every night, but if their smug smiles are anything to go by they're getting pretty freaky as well.

"They're taken," Arthur's scary sister the fortuneteller said. "That's forever love, I learned the hard way. But don't assume it means the end for you."

Merlin's sweet, pretty assistant came on to him that first night, and Gwaine assumed going to bed with her would give them both some comfort. Looking over his bites and bruises the next morning, he knew he'd been wrong but he wasn't the least bit sorry.

Freya's regular squeeze is Elena, who's just about as sweet and awkward and disgusting in the daily sideshow as she is at night. In front of a crowd of strangers, she swallows live frogs; for her good friends, she'll swallow Percival's cock, and then she'll take another one at the same time. Sometimes Leon, Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine all take turns, squeezing their dicks in next to Percy's while Elena sucks and snorts with laughter, and Freya whoops and cheers.

That's the closest he's come to being with Elyan so far.

And you'd think, after that, knowing _that intimately_ that Elyan's relationship with Percy isn't exclusive, you'd think he'd have the nerve to ask, or maybe just slap him on the ass or flirt with him the way Gwaine does with _every other living thing_. But there's something about this guy.

Despite all the physical closeness, and despite all the other wonders he's seen (and shagged) in the past few months, he still has trouble thinking of Elyan as a creature of this world.

Gwaine still holds his breath like the suckers in the audience every time he watches the acrobats. The part where Aithusa lifts Elyan above his head with one arm, and Elyan bends both his legs behind his head, folding himself in an elegant, impossible knot… God, Gwaine can't get it out of his head. Sex with a contortionist sounds like the setup for a bad joke, but sex with Elyan is all he can think about, it's more than he can dream of.

In the private show, Percy sits next to Elyan on the stage and keeps a steady hand on his shoulder while Elyan lifts his knees up by his ears, leans forward, and fits his gorgeous mouth around his own cock. 

Gwaine always thought a sixty-nine was awkward – even with someone as hot as Lancelot, the effort of holding their positions kept him from getting much pleasure out of the experience. But Elyan makes this twisted party trick look as natural as everything else he does, as comfortable as Gwaine is when he jerks off alone. Gwaine's hard, elated and miserable as he watches the muscles move in Elyan's long thighs, watches his cheeks hollow and his head bob. Elyan's got everything he could ever want, and Percival besides. What does he need another cocksucker like Gwaine for?

"A kiss," says Morgana, making him jump. When the fuck did she get that close?

"What?"

"Don't assume. Offer. Ask."

Elyan's working harder now, ready to bring himself off, and Gwaine imagines everyone else away, thinks of Percy's hand on his shoulder and Elyan's tongue in his mouth, gentle and quiet and bitter with cum. One of these nights he'll offer, he'll ask. Because the circus is like that, it's where dreams come true.

* * *

63.

"Are you nervous?" Merlin asks against the sharp curve of Arthur's shoulder blade.

Arthur shakes his head, but the tension in his back belies him. He relaxes slightly when Merlin kisses him, then arches up to keep the contact between them when Merlin draws away. 

"Shh… you've wanted for this for so long, and it's going to be good. It's going to be _so_ good." Merlin touches his lips to the nape of Arthur's neck and nuzzles at the soft, blond hair. If he had any predilection for pet names, here's where he'd whisper 'sweetheart' and 'prince' into Arthur's skin, here's where he'd tell the man how dear he is and how very much Merlin wants to please him. 

The words always catch in the middle of his chest, though, half-uttered and almost dangerous, as if saying them would create something new and named between them. 

Merlin's not ready for names. 

But this -- Arthur spread out vulnerable and nervous, excited and aroused despite the tightness in the set of his shoulders -- he's ready for this. Merlin kisses down the length of Arthur's spine, counting every delicate dip and divot, and pauses when he reaches the base. 

"Are you -- oh…" Arthur's voice trails off into a sigh. One notch of tension eases, then another, and Arthur sighs once more to feel Merlin rest his cheek at the small of Arthur's back. 

"I am. I will." There's soft hair here, too, almost downy and white, and Merlin nuzzles gently. "Does that tickle?"

"A little, yeah." Arthur twitches, laughs, and eases some more. 

Merlin cups one hand around Arthur's arse and gives him a little nudge up off the mattress. Arthur complies, but there's a moment, a trembling, and hesitation that Merlin knows isn't uncertainty. 

"All right?" He asks, anyway, and strokes the back of Arthur's thighs. 

That earns Merlin another tremble. Arthur's already hard, hard enough that the tip of his cock curves towards the flat of his belly. He inhales and exhales through his nose, like he's collecting every second and every sensation. When he pushes back against the hand on his arse, Merlin knows Arthur's ready. 

He skims the palms of his hands down Arthur's sides and kneels up behind him. For a moment, Merlin just breathes against Arthur's skin, mouths over the curve of his arse, noses into the crease where it meets the top of his thigh. The touch is light enough to make Arthur whimper; he nudges back against Merlin again and gives such a small, needy noise that warmth flutters in Merlin's chest.

Cupping his palms against Arthur and sliding his thumbs up to part his arse cheeks, Merlin leans in to lick wetly over the hole. He's so open, so open and vulnerable and needy, that Merlin gets perilously close to muttering stupid endearments and to kissing promises. He licks over the small, tight hole again, getting Arthur wet and slick, and flicks the end of his tongue over and over the same spot.

Arthur's breathing comes ragged and loud while Merlin eats him out; he's run out of pleading words and whimpers. He's running out of strength, too, and Merlin can feel him shudder as he tongues deeper inside Arthur. 

The fluttering goes right through Merlin again and tightens deep inside his chest, reaches down to the pit of his stomach and the ends of his limbs. Everything Arthur does -- nudging against Merlin's mouth, letting out needy sighs and groans, quivering when Merlin kisses his spit-slick opening -- makes Merlin want to take himself in hand and rub his cock against Arthur. Anywhere against Arthur, anywhere he can bring himself off all hot and messy and fast. 

Then Arthur gives a cry that sounds as if it's pulled out from somewhere deep and secret inside him and all Merlin wants is to feel Arthur come for him. He has to shift away to reach around and stroke Arthur's cock, but after that it doesn't take much. Arthur's orgasm comes over him in a mad rush and he spills eagerly into Merlin's hand. 

And Merlin, who still can't stop the words from snagging in his chest, curls himself against Arthur as he pants out his climax sprawled on the bed. With his face buried in Arthur's shoulder, Merlin rubs his cock against Arthur's thigh, and imagines all the names and endearments slipping from his lips as he comes.

* * *

64.

"Have you ever gotten a blowjob?" Merlin asks innocently, shining his torch up at the gentle slope of the top of their tent. They're camping for the week, celebrating the end of college and taking one last best-mates-for-life trip before they go their separate ways for uni.

"Of course I have. Don't be ridiculous. Haven't you?"

"Well..." Merlin's high pitch gives him away.

Arthur props himself up on his elbows. "Seriously?"

Merlin shrugs. "What's it like?"

The truth is that Arthur enjoys receiving oral sex about as much as he enjoys giving it, which is not at all. The girls who have gone down on him have been so awkward and unsure and nervous that it usually takes a lot of effort for Arthur get off from it.

"I don't know," Arthur says blandly.

"We could practise," Merlin says, his voice low. "On each other, I mean."

Arthur groans. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh. Right. Well... we could practise anyway."

Arthur shifts up on his elbows again. "Merlin, why are you trying to suck my cock?"

"I don't know, it just seems like it could be a good idea," Merlin says, the words jumbled closely together.

"You're not queer, are you?" Arthur asks, mostly because it seems like it needs to be asked.

"I might be."

Arthur flops back down. "Jesus, Merlin."

"I couldn't think of another way to tell you," Merlin says, his voice high and anxious.

"You thought offering to suck me off was a good way to come out?"

"Erm... apparently."

"So you didn't actually want to know what it's like to go down on a girl."

"Well... no. Not exactly."

"You are actually insane," Arthur complains. He scrubs his hands over his face and tries to wrap his mind around the fact that Merlin is gay.

"I'm not insane, I just want you to let me suck your cock."

"Merlin!" Arthur chokes out, shock and nervousness thrilling down his spine. His cock actually _twitches_ and Arthur can feel himself going red.

Merlin sits up and gives Arthur an endearingly imploring look. "Please?"

Arthur tries to think of a reason - any reason - to say no, but all he can think about is the way his cock is somehow already dripping precome.

"Fine, just - just get it over with," he rasps.

Merlin crawls out of his sleeping bag and then unzips Arthur's, pushing the top flap aside and settling himself between Arthur's legs. He runs his hands firmly up and down Arthur's thighs, then makes quick work of taking off Arthur's pants.

Merlin's lips quirk in a small, knowing half smile that is inanely familiar. Arthur whimpers, then bites down on his lip to keep himself from making any more embarrassing noises.

Merlin leans down and Arthur holds his breath, ready and waiting. The first touch of Merlin's tongue is light and teasing, but not in a good way. It's hesitant and ticklish and nowhere near enough.

Arthur exhales and the tension drains out of him. He fists his sleeping bag, wondering if he is _ever_ going to enjoy this.

Merlin sinks his mouth over Arthur's entire erection and pulls off slowly, his cheeks hollowed and his tongue doing something absolutely wicked.

Arthur digs his finger into Merlin's hair and tilts his head back, straining and gasping for air. He's never felt _anything_ like this before, not even when he's positively drowning his own cock in lube and fucking into his fists with reckless abandon. Merlin's mouth is _hot_ and there is _suction_ and a _tongue_. It's the most painfully blissful sensation that Arthur can even imagine, but then Merlin's fingers tease the spot just behind his balls and it's _more_ than he can handle.

Arthur comes with a shocked wail, his body arching off the ground as heat explodes behind his eyes and throbs in his cock and shoots through every vein.

Merlin sits up and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He avoids looking at Arthur, but Arthur doesn't want to waste time being awkward. Arthur pushes himself up and shoves Merlin down in the same movement. Merlin makes a surprised sound and Arthur grins as he peels off Merlin's pants.

"It's my turn," he says thickly, wrapping a hand around Merlin's already leaking cock.

"You're straight," Merlin says, arguing pointlessly as Arthur swipes his thumb over the head of Merlin's cock.

Arthur leans down for a kiss and Merlin immediately arches against him, grabbing onto the back of his neck. "Guess again."

* * *

65.

He wakes in the woods, naked, placing one bloodied foot in front of the other like a babe just learning to walk. He has no idea where he is, _who_ he is. He is lost, alone.

The drum of hoofbeats approaching is no louder than his own heart.

~

Lord Godwin is a duke and his house a castle, thick walls and bustling interior. The wanderer is not treated as a madman but as a lost hero. Godwin gifts him with food, clothing, a room. A sword, armor. A blank, white shield.

The first time he takes the sword in hand, he knows that Godwin was right. The callouses of his palm fit perfectly. He is a man who has lived by sharp edges and grown hardened from them. Somehow, he is disappointed in himself.

In the evenings, his rescuer, Lady Elena, dines with them in her father's hall. Others are there - lords, councilors, knights with crests on their shields. Yet she asks him to sit at her right hand. He, the nameless knight from a foreign land.

The whispers are soft, but he can hear them all the same.

~

In dreams he sees faces achingly familiar, and knows them for people he has lost. He also dreams of cold, of water, of fire. Those dreams he pushes back. The faces he calls after, but with names he can never remember by daylight.

Still, one of those faces that gifts him with his name. "Lancelot," says an earnest young man with bright blue eyes. "Lancelot," like he is begging for something.

Lancelot wakes with his own name ringing in his ears.

~

The Lady Elena tends him, though he is not ill. Not in body - at least not once his feet healed. Heart and mind are less easily cured.

When he wakes she is often already there, puttering about his room. He cannot tell what she hopes to do - she has the air of a practical woman but none of the skills. Her hands often flutter, uncertain. She walks carefully, as though afraid to stumble, but he finds her only slightly clumsy. She is, he thinks, hiding a part of herself from him.

He cannot blame her.

So he often wakes from dreams of lost friends to hear her humming and watch her wander his rooms, airing things that don't need airing and kicking up dust trying to clean. Perhaps he should dislike the invasion of his privacy, but he feels so little sense of self yet that he isn't sure he cares. Or perhaps since her face was the first one he saw, he finds the sight of it comforting.

~

Three months later, he competes in the annual tournament, his shield still white. He defeats all comers, but when they hand the purse and golden chain to him, he carries them to her and offers them up.

She laughs out loud before the whole assembled crowd, head thrown back. Then she tells him she doesn't run an inn, but he may buy her a horse if he wishes.

He does. She likes that much better.

~

A week after the tournament, he wakes to her humming voice, a low thrum of pleasure in his veins. Still half asleep, he wallows in the sound, in the feeling of _safety_ and _home_ and _want_.

"Good morning," she says.

He opens his eyes slowly, but she is not looking at his face. She is looking further down his body, a half-smile on her face.

His blush feels like a bonfire.

~

" _Oh,_ ," he gasps, and "oh!" He feels stripped bare - a man of flesh and blood, writhing beneath her strong hands. Her tongue peeks out between her lips as she tries to find the perfect way to touch him that will drive him absolutely mad.

He does not tell her she has already won that battle.

She shifts down, pushing at her undergarments until they puddle at her waist, leaving her ample bosom bare. Carefully, she cups her hands around her softness and gathers him up between. She moves slowly at first, up and down, while he stares in either awe or shock, he cannot tell which. Then, as in everything, she begins to rush.

He sees the head of his own manhood emerging from between her breasts over and over, purple against her pale skin. He sees her grin of triumph, feels the soft swell of her encasing him, and with a gasp he throws his head back, utterly undone.

She laughs again, wild and free.


End file.
